Night’s corridors
hide ghosts
that will not
cross the light.
It is just the wind
really and worse
it is just mice.
They shun the
spotlight and
nibble away.
Night’s corridors
call out
your name. It
is just a moan
from the ghost wind.
It is really
just a shriek
from mice. They
talk this way
because they
are not human.
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Luis was born in Mexico, lives in California, and works in the mental health
field in Los Angeles, CA. His poems have appeared in Ariel Chart, Beatnik Cowboy,
Dope Fiend Daily, Unlikely Stories, and Zygote In My Coffee.
