The Incubus Poem by Sheena Blackhall
The Incubus
I had a little Incubus,
It sat upon a chair
And in my sleep that incubus
Would roll its eyes and stare
It was a horrid looking thing
With pointy ears and toes
Its breath was rank as rotting flesh
Of rats and embryos
I had a little Incubus
When I grew well, he left
And strangely in a perverse way
I almost felt bereft
Wednesday, August 29, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: incubus
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5/6/2024 3:36:08 PM # 1.0.0.1119
