The man with the umbrella smile
and bright crooked eyes
strips down the daylight
like a hunter skinning first kill

He lurches under a darkling moon
Tucking kite string under his coat
Where the wind gathers tears and leaves
And scatters you in bits and pieces.

He has cold hands without gloves
And loves to touch you secretly
When he thinks the moon is not watching
And your lips are stitched shut
By a mother’s weary hands.

His sighs are solitary shades
Growing in a damp knot
Under the stretch of your dress
Where he baits your breath
And forces you to hold it
Until you turn blue.

He offers you pieces of stars
And pretty things to wear
Places promises on your tongue
That hang like cloaks in dark closets
And presses you to keep secrets
Arched between your thighs
Tucked up inside your belly.

He unpins night from the sky
And rolls it up under your bed
Tucking it in safe and secure
In the corners he hides from your family
Disguising the abomination
That calls itself sanctuary.