Lou J. Klaiber

PHANTASM AND POETRY

You say, they are not
real.

Not being real,
they become the silence within a dream.

They become real
in the sense of a hand… writing memory,
of life
and death.

Phantasmic soldiers crawl and surround
the valley of the sky…
mostly at night.

One!
… then another,
and another.

The poet hears them knocking
and shuffling by his door, so very late
at night.

We unlock our hearts
and the door opens.

We say to the darkness
… far past midnight…! Hello!

… and ‘Welcome Home!’