Canadian Gothic

A ghostly cold crept in through the walls.
Night lasted past morning time.
The deflated moon limped eerily along
like a ship without a rudder.
A lone jay called through the dark
as if to say wake up it's day.
I followed its squawking out
into the violet scented gloom,
as I went to spread some corn around,
And nearly tripped over the body
of my brother Don, who'd fallen
drunk among the bracken.
Lord love a duck!
Don get off the ground you'll
freeze your ass get crackin!
He crawled on all fours in through the door
and collapsed in the middle of the floor.
I threw a blanket on him and he
shivered and asked for rum.
What the feck you doin out there Bro
Don't you know the war is on?
Sit up now, here's your gun.
Then I woke up with a start.
It was a dream Jean, you worry wort,
I told myself.
The jays were agitating
As I lay contemplating.
A new day was dawning, and the sky sang
yellow.
All was mellow.
Then Mr Hunt came up the rise
with his Post bag at his side.
Good morning Jean you look a sight.
Here's a letter from your brother,
I was sure I heard you say he passed away.
You look a fright, like you seen a ghost.
What's the matter?
I looked back in the room and saw
my brother in the chair.
How could he be there? When he died
in the war?
Mr. Hunt, I cried, That's him inside!
He just laughed,
You are mistaken!
What kind of drug have you been taking?
As he turned and walked away
I saw the sun was setting.
And I watched with dismay as the blue jay flew away.
When I went back inside the house
there was no one there
except an empty chair.
It whispered to me,
You need a rest, you've gone quite loonie.
Take a load off now,
We'll sort this out somehow come Tuesday.

April 2020