Nightcrawlers Poem by richard ilnicki

Tonight the soft rain comes
and the wind slices whistling blind sounds
cutting a forlorn song's stanzas,

Rhymes shredded surreptitiously
by congested ghosts and throats
into unrecognizable bits

as we two, asexual nightcrawlers,
come slowly out of the ground,

squirm around in the mud
then crawl into bed.
We get comfortable on our individual sides
then fall asleep after a kiss on the cheek

to dream mostly about nothing
except for an occasional nightmare.