The night is dark and cold, another world.
Inside, the dark house creaks, could it be haunted?
A creature crashes against the neighbour’s fence,
accompanied by the roar of a passing bike.

The dark house creaks, could it be haunted?
My wife breathes alongside me oblivious,
accompanied by the roar of a passing bike.
Somewhere a lover argues on his phone.

My wife breathes alongside me oblivious.
Meanwhile rubbish blows along the pavement
as a drunken lover argues on his phone;
two strangers drifting under the dusty moon.

As rubbish blows along the empty pavement,
a creature crashes against the neighbour’s fence;
two strangers adrift under the dusty moon.
The night is dark and cold, another world.

A pantoum in response to a post by Pádraig Ó Tuama.
(05.01.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Gary Fultz on Unsplash