neuroticking

I am still

here, my brother’s old Peter Rabbit quilt

and my black sheet

shroud, comfort me

resting on my silent philtrum depression,

the dimple between lip and nose.

The sky is white through the open window.

Silhouettes of branches wave outside

and when I look away, everything is shadowed

kelly green when I blink.

last night I toss and turn

did you know I dreamed of you

that the dead could speak to me,

beautiful icy-grey, they were afraid

so I dragged my sister from hell’s purgatory

with extension cords wrapped about her wrists

it took all our strength, we could have been trapped there too

she was free but still dead

her head lolled to the side in my hands

and I couldn’t even find her shadow.

I wandered our old neighborhood, you know,

found the looming house, all new

and searched for the old in it,

I wandered from room to staircase

and the wooden panels grew fuzzy, blurred in my eyes

I began to suspect I was asleep but pressed forward in the black

feeling nothing but the creak beneath my feet

hearing nothing but the desperate whispers of the dead,

their skirts spread like my mother’s wedding dress on the lawn