The Isle of Sin and Shadows

by Keri Lake

He carries on his crooked back A ragged burlap gunnysack And in his hand he wields a blade Of children’s bones, from which it’s made He hunts the night for those who’ve lied There’s nowhere you can run, or hide He’ll swipe you up right out of bed And by first light, you will be dead.

“You’re my favorite ghost story,” I whisper against her lips.

“He has a soft side, too. It’s just hidden. Deep. Deep, deep, deep. Like beyond the seven layers of hell, deep.” “Das deep.”

“Good. Good talk.” I pop the last bite into my mouth and lick the grease from my fingers. “Dang, girl. You even taste dat?”