I come in the night
Asking for my lack, as pilgrims do-
I have nothing for payment, but gifts are supposed to be free.
In the dark you chuckle.
I can see nothing, but you smell thick in the air-
A secret garden only the dead may know.
“You already have all, child. Next.”
I leave with the exact things in my hand
I have had since the start, but I
Smell better now.
I begin my journey home.