You will not see her approach,
hear footsteps fall or gravel crunch.
The moonlight shadow makes no sound
as she picks you out for lunch.
But you may smell the foul stench,
feel slimy spittle against your skin.
Pungent odour fills your nose
your stomach writhes and knots within.
You will not see a blade glint
but feel the gouge of razored nail
as she disembowels your organs
and drags out your entrails.
Pray she passes you by, my dear
pull the covers over head.
Lock your windows, bolt the door,
hope she isn’t in your bed.