Dark Fiction Factory welcomes guest poet, John Grey.
TONIGHT IS THE NIGHT
Her love has come
to deliver her.
He’s climbing
the outside wall
like a spider.
His head is large
and his legs are many.
Her anticipation
crawls across her skin.
-
PORTENTS
Dark made small work of the last of the light, then focused attention
on whoever was sleeping.
I was suddenly
a man helpless on a bed
as bony hands
gripped tight to the pillow
pushed into my face.
Ah, nightmares.
Like finding roaches in a candy jar,
a grinning skull in the mirror,
weevils and worms
in a lover’s kiss.
They drop in on me uninvited.
They depart come morning,
leave portents in their wake.
-
666
There really is such a thing as
hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia—
fear of 666,
the number of the beast—
some people refuse
to stay in a hotel room
with that number
or will quickly thumb past
the equivalent page
in a book —
and every time
someone says "666,"
they cross themselves -
and, of course,
if I see someone cross themselves,
I always whisper "666."
-
Poetry by John Grey.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Sheepshead Review, Stand, Poetry Salzburg Review and Hollins Critic. Latest books, “Leaves On Pages” “Memory Outside The Head” and “Guest Of Myself” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Ellipsis, Blueline and International Poetry Review.
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