151. 11 am
there’s a girl shaped hole
about 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
as the door closes
considerately
behind us.