Dave Bonta's short poem is about a night when a writer can't write and something darker settles into the house. The speaker's head is "full of ink," as if there are plenty of words waiting, yet there is no wish to put them on paper. That odd gap between having something to say and not wanting to say it sets the uneasy tone.
Then fear arrives "to live with us," as though it were a new lodger rather than a passing feeling. The word "us" suggests this isn't only the speaker's trouble; it touches a shared space. The last image is the most striking: fear is compared to a child who is troubled all night and cannot speak. That makes it both pitiable and wearing, something you'd want to comfort but can't understand. The title, "Incubus," points to a nightmare spirit, and the poem's mood matches: restless, helpless, quiet, and a little eerie.