I shut my eyes against the light to block out scary shapes, like dress shirts in the closet and anthropomorphic drapes.
            I wish I’d closed the closet door before I went to bed. I might not have to pull the sheet so far over my head.

            But if I try to close it now (I fearfully confess), That Thing beneath my bed might grab my feet in tight caress.
            And what’s that dreadful scratching on my bedroom windowpane? I can remember if the moon is full or on the wane.

            That scary noise could be a branch disturbed by gentle wind,
Or lycanthropic cannibals attempting to get in…
            Or the scrabbling thorny tip atop a hairless leather wing
Of a truly terrible creature. Some ghastly nasty thing.

            Or dripping foam from monster pods that burst apart to show
A duplicate family member or a neighbor that I know.
            Of course I had to drink that final glass of soothing tea!
I’d never reach the bathroom with some horror chasing me.

            I’ll have to buy a flashlight with an incandescent beam,
To chase away the nightmares until I drift away to dream.
            Or hang a clove of garlic to hold the fangs at bay,
And a dried-out four-leaf clover to keep the little folk away.

            Or fill a water pistol from the baptismal at Church
To fend off evil demons bent on some nocturnal search.
            Or swear off Ouija Boards for good and sell the damn TV,
And send Poe to a Goodwill and pursue tranquility.