Mar 152014

by Sy Roth


He saw them

Real as the hair that grew

Like red hedges on his fingers.


A yellow horde

Nosferatus is their black pajamas

Emerged from the bowels

Of the bathroom,


from the darkness

when the room was alight

Only with the glow of susurrating air machines

That kept him awake

Alert to their entrances,

and their exits when healers entered.


They’re here, he would scream

Here to take me back where I began

Here in the alone space of my existence

Under the slatted bedframe

Through the oily tunnels

On a slime-filled ride

Into my reality.


He saw them,

Saw them

and sawed them with his flailing arms

pushing them away

Fearful they would whisk him off.


Ultimately they did.

We healers deniers erased them.

Behind his eyes

He saw them

While we did not.