Here's something.
I guess I don't know whether this
is a song or a dramatic monologue or whatever.
It's a kind of nightmare poem, I guess
you could say, about somebody lying in the dark
and thinking he's being--
thinking there's somebody in the house.
And the person in the house is Eros, but Eros, God of Love,
is a highly sinister figure.
Eros is more like Hermes, in fact, a stealer.
And that's what the poem is called, "The Stealer."
He's stealing along, but he's also going to do some thieving.
"The Stealer."
"I lie and live my body's fear.
Something's at large and coming near.
No dead bolt can keep it back.
A worm of fog leaks through a crack.
From the darkness, as before, it grows the body in my door.
Like a taker, scarved and gloved,
it steals this way, like when I loved.
Fear stiffens me and a slow joy at the approach
of the sheathed boy.
Will he, too, do what that one did,
unlock me first, open the lid, and reach inside
with playful feel?
All the better, thus, to steal."
It's very nice of you to applaud, but don't wear out
your hands.