152. 11 am.

there’s a girl shaped hole
inside this house
and a hearse on the drive
and a ringing in my ears
though everyone’s hushed
& murmuring in reverential tones.

someone’s talking
through my mouth
but it’s not me.

strange – everything’s the same,
but I’m not.

Time to go,
someone says
& we file out
and the door closes
behind us.