Another Visitor
What is there to offer up
to the thing I sense each night
behind me? I can never tell
if it’s standing, or floating,
in a state of being as a sphere
of light, or cloud,
a pinpoint,
at peace in a corner or raging
by my deaf ear, or peeking
from some ripped
dimensional current, brushing
alongside my aura. Curious
as I may be, is it necessary
to speak my query?
Must I ask
it out loud? Or her, or him, or them,
or through its legion, or God,
or god, or G_d, and is once enough?
Is it lost, passing through,
ignoring me, simply unaware
of my presence?
Might it think I am
the stalking one, always present,
sitting around and in the way,
as it tries concentrating, as it paces,
stepping around my form.
Larry D. Thacker’s poetry and fiction can be found in over 200 journals and anthologies, including Spillway, Poetry South, The Lake, The American Journal of Poetry, and Valparaiso. His books include four full poetry collections, two chapbooks, as well as the folk history, Mountain Mysteries: The Mystic Traditions of Appalachia. His collections of short fiction include Working it Off in Labor County and Labor Days, Labor Nights, as well as a co-authored short story collection, Everyday, Monsters. His newest poetry collection is entitled New Red Words. Visit his website at: www.larrydthacker.com
Amethyst Review 