The Empty Room
by Vaughn Neeld

The room, stark, white,
is only warmed by the wood
that reflects silvered moonlight,
which lies breathless, caught,
before it slithers back
into the blue-black night.

Trees, bewitched ghouls,
lean toward unclothed windows,
seek for whomever
comes to occupy
this ghostly space.

Among the trees,
the room,
empty, bare, blank, hollow,
holds its breath—



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