Night Shift

It might seem deathly quiet
lonely, empty, yet haunted still
and with the grey forever of the hallway
weak glow of the bathroom light
the scene is set for fear.

But lean in and listen, to the:
steady drops of toilet water
whistle of the funneled wind
unoiled creakings of the doors
unannounced slammings booming out
murmurings of the inhabitants
snuffling or sniffing or snoring
or their yelps and shrieks
-all conducted from the depths of sleep-
hollow flop of trousers on stairs
crankings of break-time locks
turnings of keenly-devoured pages
tappings on cheaply-bought phones
sock-clad shufflings
and the dripping of bladders emptying
cicadas grinding
motorbikes roaring
ghosts stirring.

and when I feel their breath on my neck
I look over my shoulder and wink.

it is unquiet
and I am unafraid.