Poetry: Haunted houses – Part 10

Haunted

Faces covered’n

thick leather,

masks without openings

for eyes or ears.

A Scream won’t find voice.

A hand pulls a semi

to aim the heart and maim the head.

Bullets filled with radio actives

for repeated death inhibit resurrection.

Sweating and diarrhea in profusion

arrests good blood counts.

Certified death of a woman.

She appeases the masters,

wakes from slumber to find

this torment not only fictive

abstraction.

Right there in her lot

are shadows cast all day,

despising rotating sun.

Windows rattle.

This house is haunted!

Keys don’t turn full revolution.

Enforcement walk the apartment

with doors locked and bolted.

Doors sublime,

part for entry like Red sea.