Kim Nelson: Haunted

The things we fear most
are things unseen;
Wispy shadows in the corner;
the groaning creak in the stairs
when no one else is home;
Fragile ripples atop calm waters,
hinting at something primal
in the deep.

A disturbance
invisible to our senses,
and yet,
the hairs on our arms stand on end,
crackling like an electric storm
while our spines turn to icicles
over the feeling that someone,
something,
is there.

We see it in the mirror,
when our reflection lingers
a moment too long,
a blur between two worlds.
We see it in the water;
a shadow,
or an outline?
We see it in the darkness,
Watching with infrared eyes,
sensing the escalation of our heartbeats,

and waiting.