Baba Yaga creeps
on chicken legs
down the dark night street
claws patches
of rain black clouds
from the sky
and pastes them to the attic window
I know it's her
I can hear her fingernails
trapping on the glass
She croaks my name
with her frog voice
if she wanted
she could slide in
through the window crack
and snack on my heart
while I sleep
I wouldn't mind
I would feel her breath on my skin
that would be enough
on chicken legs
down the dark night street
claws patches
of rain black clouds
from the sky
and pastes them to the attic window
I know it's her
I can hear her fingernails
trapping on the glass
She croaks my name
with her frog voice
if she wanted
she could slide in
through the window crack
and snack on my heart
while I sleep
I wouldn't mind
I would feel her breath on my skin
that would be enough
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