Neighbor

By Michael Taylor

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atop a black velvet slope
carefully pinned with stars,
the horns of a pitchfork,
red, blinking red.

on this hot frozen corner,
a streetlamp reproduces itself
in milky car windows.

a garbage truck grinds
unnatural teeth—
sirens move closer
in a pack,
howling.

intruder,
you surprise me...
gliding through my halo,
pulling your shadow
like a blade.

are you frightened
in this darkness before dawn?
did you see a horrible face
when peeking through a flimsy curtain--
yourself?