Aunt did not know about the demons
looming like giant gargoyles
behind the girl
her angel.
So when Syrill laughed the other day
a sudden high-pitched cackle
like nails gnawing over steel dolls
for steel indeed they chewed.
Those scratches just beneath the surface
auntie’s eyes were presbyopic
Ah time! She says
aunt being a pragmatic dear lady
apprehensions and nonsense!
scratches heralding viscous cracks
lurking inside the solitary steel figurine
but auntie, oh, her ears failed her
Ah time! she sighs.
So Syrill fought alone
the battle that could’ve been won
long.
The sun rose
as Syrill smiled, again
daring the sun to touch her,
begging it
for she wasn’t a vampire, after all.
Even the bullies would admit
the pallid face and watery sockets
more became a phantom warrior.
Ah there, Hello Syrill, welcome home,
my dear brave Syrill, here, the sun.
It’s yours now.