The Host

There is something in our world that creeps along the edges of the road

It finds its way across the street

Into the open doors of schools,

shops, homes.

It climbs like Ivy up the walls

Of churches, hospitals, funeral parlors.

Without warning it claims you.

You feel it in your gut

It possesses your throat

It forms around your mouth.

Then you hear it escape.

You have been a host for laughter

and you just cannot stop smiling.