There’s the sound again
of footsteps gaining on my every sleeping moment.
Rest is fleeting as I look behind myself and wonder,
“Who could possibly be gaining so quickly
It happens most nights.
why can’t I seem to remember faces,
when I see them night after night?
The alleys behind the tenements of my childhood
obelisks of red clay brick and fire escapes.
The footsteps still follow, voices in the distance.
I’m gaining on safety.
Jumping the barriers to my kitchen window,
a hand pulls me back.
Who is this invisible foe?
And why is home never safe?