Treasure Island

Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

Vampires Camping Out


Within arms reach they teach
a novice knows.
Pale faces father groans.
Trains
that pass us in the night.
Beating hearts
that taste the heated fear.
Bloodshot eyes that glow.
Lay just beneath the skin.
Hidden faces
lay beneath green leaves.
The blood
It sits in pools
where they have always been.

Submitted: Tuesday, July 02, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, July 24, 2013

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