Not So Safe a Haven

       Birth of a Vampire

A quiet sound awakens me—

It comes, and then is lost again,

Wrapped in the soft folds of the night,

Moved away by the silent wind.

I rise and push aside the drape

To try to see what I cannot hear.

A shadow flickers through the trees,

A silhouette both dark and sere.

It hesitates and turns to peer

At my frozen form behind the cloth,

And slowly, softly stalks me there,

With kitten teeth and bloody mouth.

Lying down, I know I’ve died,

To rise again to night and wood.

And now I know the quiet sound—

It was the drip of my soul’s blood.

copyright Angela Parson Myers 2011