It stands before the door
It knows the rules, only fair
If she fails to observe it
It can begin to come upstairs

She stands atop the landing
Looking down at the front door
Her sight pushes it back into the frame
Like it was never there at all

It reaches over the bed
It knows these rules of hers
It can’t grab hands or hair or head
But anything else outside the covers

She moves in her sleep
Her foot again tucked away
It moves back under the bed
Diverted for another day

It roils within the steam
It knows the rules: they don’t soften
It gets to open the shower door
If she doesn’t look out often

Rinsing shampoo from her hair
She takes a stinging look outside
The bathroom remains empty
It has had already rushed to hide

It is nothing in the light
It knows the rules, of course
A silly habit borne of fear
In daylight it has no source

At night it lives a full life
Ready to punish and scare
But in the light of day
It was never really there