The Countess

Your name may be common and trite
But you come to haunt me every night,
Buzzing in my ear
Without a trace of fear
And gently shove your needle-nose
Into my fingers and my toes
And suck on till I am bloodless.
You little miniature Countess,
Why, when your husband's deeds
Are so noble that he feeds
Only on the fruits of trees,
Do you puncture my arteries?
Generations of repellent,
Which were clearly meant
To wipe out your existence,
Have failed against your resistance.
And so, about you, I must say this thing:
You are responsible for inspiring
That real evil fella
Called Count Dracula.

Dark Day Tomorrow

Said Sunshine to darkness one night,

“Let’s get the bloody fundamentals right.

In some time you will disappear

And all you will become is a mere

Thought, a memory, a part of the past.

And when I generously cast

Myself on the world and its people

They’ll be happy. It’s that simple.”

Darkness was unperturbed. He looked fine.

After a while, he said, “Look Sunshine,

I am sure you have met my first cousin,

The one who's presently in Wisconsin.

His name? Mr. Dark Cloud, remember him?

He might, just might, on a whim

Stand between you and the world all day.

And I’ll still exist, despite going away.”

The Kitten

She came, she snuggled.

Tinier than my palm,

tinier that the rats she'd eat

after growing up.

Like all of them,

she was confused first,

then content.

And then, she left.

Again. like all of them do.