Your uphill path isn’t haunted - even
baseball caps on hikers comfort you
until an unusualness
when something warm and bony
gets on my back, reaches and squeezes
my frightened wrist until
I let go,
alarmed, of my chocolate
bar and the skeleton creature whoops and
springs baboon
to the fallen sweet and grinningly turns,
devours in dust,
chirruping
and there’s horror
isn’t there?
when you panic
suddenly
gotten onto
from behind
by a grinning
gripping
carcass
silently
from behind
now isn’t there?
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