evidence of haunting i was babysat by ghosts. basinette down into the basement where i rocked to the knocking of pipes. still, only once in awhile did i see a full body apparition, tall murky woman with long white hair. she would moan & cover her eyes. our house had too many mirrors. i learned my face was not always my face--beneath the surface it could easily shift into seance. put the ouija board key in my mouth. a piano playing itself. glasses falling from cabinets & making a mash of glass. a phantom hand, removing a shard from my bare foot. were they envious of my flesh, all ripe & soft? tv turning itself on to the shopping channel. soon, a set of brownie pans arrived without warning. a package often fell from the ceiling. new towels & stuffed animals & once arrive a candelabra already lit. flames can survive a lot of silence. i don't remember any of this-- i was a baby of course but when i hold my palms up to the light to inspect i can see evidence of haunting. i know my parents summoned them with a pentagram in the damp basement, holding hands & reciting spells in latin. of course, none of this is true. my babysitters were young girls with curly hair & freckles. they crossed their legs & once in while left me alone in my bed room where i might cover my eyes & turn around. me, my own little music box. a ghost putting his hands on my shoulders to steady me. blinking open i said "hello? hello?" that's still me in the middle of a room spinning. my babysitter is a skeleton. no one is watching me.