on summer ghosts--

before our 
youngest brother
was born my brother billy
& i had summers
that still 
exist on a different plane--
a realm of microwaved 
marshmallow experiments 
& green hallway 
doors that open
all by themselves--
it was us who haunted this house--

we heard our father start
his blue jeep in the driveway before
we were out of bed & my 
mother dove into
a hot mug off coffee
& creamer--
this was back when 
billy & i thought coffee
was gross & we drank pomegranate 
juice with our still frozen 
toaster waffles--

left unchecked by adults
the house would morph--
a face in a dark bathroom mirror--
bloody mary bloody mary
sofas stretched & the doorways
turned into teeth-- chewed us
into the living room again--

a murky television screen
was left turned on so that it
could hear it in every room--
we drifted without feet-- without
walls-- in the attic
we built caskets while
our grandfather's ashes watched 
from the corner--

i knew i shouldn't make us
watch those ghost investigation
television shows but i needed
advice on how best one
could best become a poltergeist--
billy would whine on commercial 
breaks & suggest something
like nick junior but i stared on--
fixed on the screen--
this because of my desire to haunt
my own body--

& from the screen emerged all the summer
ghosts who would visit to inhabit
my bones for years after-- 
the opening of the
closet door-- the moan of
the floor boards of the attic--
the gentle evaporation
of our skin into mist--

on a foggy morning we could
easily slip out through the screen
in the window & never ever be heard 
of again--

in summer i still feel my
body getting
haunted again-- my skin turns 
into cellophane-- rice paper
girl too empty to hold
herself inside windows--

but this was only the beginning--
this was only our introduction
to haunting-- this was when we
were in control because
what children don't know
is that a haunting once in
motion can only grow--

between my brother & i 
our house on noble street
has two faces-- the one 
with the evergreen & maroon
porch-- the one with frozen
waffles & coffee stains 

& then there's the one
with the face in the dark bathroom
mirror-- the one at the foot
of the bed-- a smudge of a body
telling you to

wake up--