Dawne Leiker
Twisted branches scrape against the rain-stained
window. Credits roll down the TV screen.
Burning my mind, his coal black eyes.
Dripping lips, kissing his gossamer bride.
From my dusty sofa, I raise a glass
to their unholy union. Feel his teeth latch
on my neck, his insatiable desire.
If only I would cast no reflection
in the hallway mirror. Slide past, not glimpse
the Creature of the night meet the last drop
of Mad Dog. Behind the yawning shadow
of the door, silver screen glare illuminates
an unkempt man cursing cop show assholes.
Skin-starved, I want to crush him with my flesh.
Drop down upon him. Undead. Unliving.
He looks through me. Unfeeling. Blasts the air
with a remote controller. Silences
the squall of a technicolor wet dream.
***
Dawne Leiker is a former journalist, now working in academia. Her news/feature stories have appeared in The Hays Daily News, Lawrence Journal World, and several online publications. Her poetry and short stories have garnered awards in regional and statewide literary competitions. Ms. Leiker’s fiction and poetry often are influenced by her past news story interviews, as she develops and reimagines fictional characters and situations loosely based on local individuals and events.