Picture

on my daily walk I see just
ahead a frantic woman...
oh god! she shrieks, curdling
my heed, then, nothing

sprinting fast, a thud pulses
my ears, the heart warning...
I halt, panting, at the house 
where she seemed to live

tentative, my feet creak the
old porch, then pause...
an open door, no movement,
my hesitant helloooo?

on the floor, scattered papers, 
an overturned desk, air still like
the last global pall...
eerie silence

swallowing hard, the dark
portal breached, I peer madly...
the heart quickens to choose
stand or flee

~I know...I know this place~

like in a bad dream, I see walls 
pocked with fury, drapes purpled
in ache, sobbed poems 
in shreds on a Navajo rug

feet stumbling in gloom, 
I shudder: shards of pottery, 
strewn petals the vermilion of
killed dreams

~where is she, good god, I
have to help her~ 

sun nearly set, I frenzy on
through shadowy rooms, their 
lived-in decor now stiff, arranged 
corpses, splayed in regret

a soiled, crumpled duvet seems
rust seep on a stitched shroud,
bitter light from the bath glares 
faith snatched down a drain

dusty pictures, old flutes, a
leather drum, lie bereft on
a once-grand piano 
now empty of claire de lune

a reflecting pool draws me
through the veranda door, its 
still surface mute in the hush, 
unwilling to wisp its secrets

~oh god...I remember this~

rounding tall pampas grass
to return to my quest, dread
falters my feet, fierce resolve
blunders on

ears perked on sound seeming
skyward, I look up...far, far
past Borealis to the conflux of
keen spirits shouting my name

with thunderbolt knowing, a hard 
clench of spine, I streak toward
my kin on the Ghost Road, out of 
reach of her fate...and mine

--Jo VonBargen 2011


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