the haunted 10 and 24

we rode a haunted train with oil and water
beading off the engine for what i
thought was fun. i
did not believe i was alone i
turned to smile and share

the season

and you

you
had a distant look in your eyes partway
unmoored. the other passengers i asked
for help but

they

they were lifeless in their
seats moved only by a rumbling
on the rails

a hand fallen down off the elbow
and. and. an upturned

forehead

somewhere behind us
the terrible sounds

the

the wailing of the

winds the cracking of some glass or why. why

why the sky was dark

the steam streaming past
the glass and my heartbeat bumping up against
the ceiling

a lonesome solitary feeling

as we long since
left the station to nowhere headed
racing

darkness awaits

The day, suffocated by clouds.  I slept into a steady rain, clawing at the glass. I would open the door for no one.

No one could rest for long. Nor could I. They wanted my life, behind  terrible smiles. Eyes, watching the breath in my chest.

Only my graveyard obligations would get me, far, far from home. I wore black, to blend in the night. Carried the iron cast lantern.

I walked with purpose, concealing my fear behind silver buttons. My life. Steeled to the ritual task.

the wind remembered

nobody remembered her name or her face

or the pale of her wrists

by the edge of her lace

 

no one remembered the man or his name

who sunk his axe deep

in the wood

in the yard

in his sleep

 

only the wind still whispered her name

through the gaps and the floors

through those walls

made of wood

 

and wrung out the leaves of the trees

just like hands

to remember the others

 

the other ones who had died

there

 

two and twenty years before

and twice as long

before then

 

and twice as long

before then

 

and twice as long

before then