She slipped through the backdoor
and tiptoed down a windy memory lane
in a nightmare, straggling in a street fight
for the will to fight; eastbound down Elm street,
dancing for solid ground, boiling in a passion
for tangible meaning.
The taste of her scent shot me upright; startled at heart
as picture frames dropped from the walls
rattling down the halls; frothing at the mouth,
I slaughtered night terrors with a closet skeleton.
Her mom delivered her on Halloween.
Our anniversary lands on April Fools.
The aftermath drips from her lips.
What’s left of me is dust beneath her feet.
My susceptibilities are on display
for all to examine; my destitute heart,
starting with the keyholder, Anna,
the ghost in my head panics with a touch of love.
(© 2022 AC)
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