Papers Found While Re-flooring The Living Room

five

our brave soldier

was the last

over the fence; the rusted wire

cat scratched through her fatigues,

and she died two weeks later,

with an arched back like rigor mortis

in a motorless parking lot

i could see hollow eyes watching us as we ran from the fence,

slender tendon fingers entwined in the chain links

four

our smiling neighbor

was stealing food

and caught a bug; a spider

bite racing black up his veins,

and he died spare minutes later,

with eyes frosted mustard gas yellow

in a rusted red, shallow playground

i could see hollow eyes watching us from the schoolhouse windows,

two emaciated silhouettes illuminated by the orange evening sun

three

our quiet priest

was the first

to be strangled; bent twig fingers

emerging from the dark behind him,

and he died as we ran,

with a croaking sound

in a smoking, shrouded parish

i could see hollow eyes watching us when i locked the front door

moonlight incandescent off the ringed slickness inside their vacant sockets

two

my boy

i can see hollow eyes atop slender figures watching me now

three of them are tall and one of them is small

one

i

am alone

in this house; no one to

sit next to or talk to or hold,

and i think i am done,

even as i write

in an isolated house

i can hear windy whispers shadowing me now

promising that they’ll take me in if i’m feeling lonely