The Visitor Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The Visitor

When I woke up in the night I saw him standing
in the doorway giggling devilishly at me, I got
out of bed and screamed: ”Not Now! ” Grabbed
a picture from the wall, (a painting of Jesus on
the cross) and threw it after him.

The frame hit him square on his forehead, blood
oozed down his hairy body, a pool on the floor,
slimy liquid full of worms, wriggling maggots and
venomous snakes that swayed and hissed to their
master’s horrid laughter.

A stir in the air the fiend became a grey dissipating
mist and the echo of his giggles faded into silence.
In the morning I found the broken frame and glass,
softly picked the saviour up and rinsed him under
the kitchen sink.