Holding a war heroes Knife
Close you Laugh in my ear
And enter my body through my side
Moving upward to a medial pre-optic area
Then steal my very soul
You hide it along side some sausages
In my fridge
Rumbling like a nuclear dialysis machine
It waits solitary
Changing the kitchen.

After two weeks
With Solvang hound of Satan
You call again
Slip gently through my side
Snaking backwards
This time to a hippocampus and temporal lobe
Again you steal my newly regained soul
Then hide it behind white curtains
They swish forward
Moving like torn dancing parachutes
Or wind blown crinoline frocks
I staple them down
To window frames.

This time after four days
You return with twenty four priests
Through my naval this time
Shooting like an express train
Up to my inferior collicus
And steal my regained soul
This time hiding it in a wall cavity
Staples fly from window frames
Curtains become rigid like starched collars
And walls recede backward
I press my ear close to a cold wall
Trying to listen for my soul
Begging for it to return
Nothing
I press my eye against the flat surface
Hoping to see it
All I see is people filled rooms.

It comes every night now
Slowly slipping in
Through my side
Upwards to steal my soul.