Transom

Over the door I can clearly see
A very tall man waiting for me
Shadowed and hooded
And bearing a scythe
I’ve noticed his shadow
Most of my life

Over the transom his claws will creep
Grasping and crooked darker than deep
Inescapable
Dreadful certain despair
Confidentially though
He won’t find me there

(Poetry Scales 75)