Crank (Crank 1)

not Kristina, but some

evil

incarnation glaring

back at me, a horrid

red-eyed crone,

materialized

as if from darkest

dementia, nightmares

to come, hibernating

inside of me.

I Filled the Sink

with cold water,

dunked my whole head

under,

counted to ten,

came up,

repeated the process.

Came up again and

she had retreated,

still close,

I suspected,

but far enough

to let me

go to the door.

His Demon Showed in His Eyes

He stumbled in, tumbled

against me, clutching

like a scared little boy,

in need of his mama’s grace.

She’s hurt real bad.