The ambush comes in the dead hours of the night;

That desolate time in the early morn

When the earth still lies fresh on yesterday’s grave

And hope for tomorrow still seems forlorn.

Time lies in a stagnant coma. Those who have

Not achieved the sweet oblivion of sleep

Lie suspended in a fretful wakefulness.

I too am one of those condemned to keep

A lonely vigil. In the furthest shadows

Of my room the predator lies in silent wait.

He bides his time, until I drop my guard

And he wins the long-awaited chance to sate

His appetite for blood. When the assault comes

It is soundless as a sharpened blade

Which slides softly into living flesh.

There is scarcely time to be afraid

Before the ravenous pain catches me in his jaws

And devours me.

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