The Ghoul

This night feels off,
The moon wears a foggy veil,
As if hiding from the bogeyman,
And I sympathise,
A macabre creature does indeed stir,

There’s something in the graveyard,
And though it resembles a cadaver,
It is very much not a corpse,
Pale and emaciated,
Hunched over with unhinged motion,

It’s chewing on something,
Lawn,
Grave dirt,
Old pine,
Meat?

The sounds are vile,
The slurp of viscera and crack of bone,
The lowlight offers a horrific silhouette,
I gasp and hold back a retch,
Twin hungry orbs lock with my eyes.

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