Changeling

[evieshka]

You were singing as you walked, every word drawing you closer to a precipice.
I watched the dead closing in around you, your lips blue.
It's summer but you breathe out warm smoke.

You were staring at the treeline and I thought I could make out
the way the bones of your face rearranged themselves
you were changing into something other
you were fanged and furred once
I try to find your pelt when you go out walking.

You open the door and the ghosts rush in like the cold.

***

I like to walk the margin between the woods and the road.
Sometimes I can hear the odd undiscovered monster cracking its teeth like dry wood
I don't know if it's coming from the houses or the trees.
How many things might be waiting for me to step off my path?

How many of them aren't you?