The phantom hand

A fleshy, pulsing, living hand
crept across the floor
and climbed up to a handle
to open the lounge door

Its goal? to find a body
to graft itself upon
longing to revive
a life that was long gone

It used its spindly fingers
to climb high up the stairs
hoping for an answer
to its nightly prayers

Cracked and dirty
finger nails
grabbing at
the staircase rails

Scratching varnish
from the wood
scuttling
as fast as it could

At a doorway
hand stopped dead
breathing sounds
came from a bed

But as it crept
into the room
it roused the person
from its tomb

Sleepy eyes
so wide and clear
makes the hand
now disappear