Progeny Poem by Francis Santaquilani

I was waiting for you. Then,
From the shadows
Of the writhing trees,
Thrown on the wall
By the streetlight,
My eyes were pulled left
By your head hovering in the dark
Above the foot of my bed.
Your head slowly glided
Over me,
Face down, until
We were eye to eye.

Your eyes were a concrete wall
Behind a black curtain.
Your jaw and chin were sharp,
Strong and smooth.
I felt like you could cut me.
Your head was still.

Only your eyes moved over me.
You didn't breath.
You had no scent.
Your skin was perfect.
Then finally your head slowly glided away,
Back into the dark.

You never came back.

I don't think you liked
The way I was turning out.