That Seeingless Night

And in the heavy howling black of bat-blind night the house settles in. Doors creak eerily on their rusted bracket knuckles – left wide open they let the dark ink-thick nothingness seep into every nook and colourless cranny. Brutus howls at this faceless phantom as night tick-tocks and dreamtime knocks, counted flocks in fenced off lots and ghosts the grown-ups all forgot float in the emptiness of this place divorced by light and ignored by the sleeping townsfolk. Darkness grips tight onto the night seeping through fingers and hollow hallways. It holds steady to passing of the full evening’s blankness