scared of the dark

I saw my first ghosts in Tigerland through halogen globes; Council buses projected spectral images onto my bedroom walls. I was often woken with static vision to see spirit-dances pepper my surroundings. Pneumatic hisses from the road outside, spitting through the darkness. Teeth-baring monsters; fangs that remained on the cogs working my mind, keeping me awake for years to come...

Dracula, witches, Bigfoot and

Bjelke-Petersen-police at my parents’

backdoor.

I covered my tracks with plastic army men but was only comfortable lying in the light on the cool floor of the backyard lawn, wondering who was a hero and who was a villain in the solar-flares of my consciousness. Who was I looking up to? In the light of day, they were probably the same dark horses who carried the eyes of my night...

Every night prayers would be said

Within the gauze of a little boy’s bed

When, lights out, a plague of darkness did spread:

The Father, the Son, the Holy Ghost Keep us.

The Father, the Son, the Holy Ghost Protect us.

The Father.

The Son.

The Holy Ghost, Amen.