The Ghost Knew Better
His hand gripped around
my neck, I breathed out loud
and saw his eyes, crimson
buttons, dulled by the darkened
light.
He did not tighten his
hold on my life, he did not move,
Standing still, my fist curled
into a battle rock, if only
I had the courage.
Though, would courage defeat this
already dead figure, my escape
was no longer planned
and the plan was to
fight, fists jarring the jaw of
the enemy, recklessly letting
the fire burn.
He sensed my violence, judging
my guiltless thoughts, and let go
of my scorched sins.
by Zoe Maynard - Zoe Maynard is currently a UK student studying English at the University of Northampton. Her poetry has recently been featured in The Poeteer: A 21st Century Poetry Publication. She has forthcoming publications in the Indiana Voice Journal, Midnight Circus literary magazine and in an anthology about social injustice.