Séance, Calling You Home

 Eyes ill contained

White light glow betrothed

A chill from frigid casket

Cracked by sullen moans

A wreathe around her neck

Dancing where she goes,

A nail in the coffin clinching

Writhing blisters hold

Lights off, then on

Shadows evoke the tome

The Whispering Hillock on the lawn

The grey, the gloom, we're home.