By Grace Bowen
holy water, silver bullets, wooden stake
you’ll do whatever it takes to keep them out
throw salt over your shoulder, hum a pretty tune, count to one hundred
but they can reach you in fifty
so you cover the mirrors, desperate for solitude,
convinced that this is your destiny
but they creep in through your body
you are their vessel
and you become what you once feared
Grace Bowen is a writer from England. She generally writes poems and occasionally short stories featuring copious amounts of monsters and inexplicable happenings. When not writing she’s probably reading.