Hushed moans all around
The dilapidated cottage
Obsessed by a call
I’ve come
For an appalling reunion
With the ghosts
Of my forebears
A touch sets off
The rush of adrenaline
Not a moth
Neither a waft
Not the incense
Of ginger lily
Jade to bear witness
I am not here
Far off
In a sinister study
I peruse a memoir
Between the lines
My penitence surfaces
Incises
In the vein of a stiletto,
To my shock—-
I am torn apart.
