Spirit in my Sanctum

I wasn’t told about a sitting tenant,
didn’t ask for a housemate,
certainly not an old creeper,
a slipper shuffler,
who leaves the seat up,
the tap running
and ghostly messages
on the steamed-up bathroom mirror.

I wouldn’t mind so much
if he’d just leave me some of the bedclothes
and stop levitating me
when my friends come to tea.

Kim M. Russell, 5th April 2019

Image result for henry fuseli the nightmare
Henry Fuseli, The Nightmare, 1781

My response to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Poems in April Day 5 A Friday Film Prompt: What We Do in the Shadows

Today’s prompt is courtesy of Izy, who has introduced us to a film I hadn’t come across yet that is right up my street: a mockumentary about four vampires sharing a flat in New Zealand, complete with issues like enforcing chore charts, proper feeding etiquette and how to prepare for a night on the town if you can’t see your own reflection. The movie trailer has whetted my interest.

Izy would like us to write poems about supernatural creatures who are troublesome roommates. The only limit is our imagination. 

16 thoughts on “Spirit in my Sanctum”

  1. Ooh this is deliciously dark and spooky! Between you and me I would run for dear life if I found “ghostly messages on the steamed-up bathroom mirror.” ❤

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