company

all week i walked to the graveyard
without a nose. my legs had given up 
on being real. all the ghosts were
watching the shopping channel 
& buying useless kitchen toys. 
i would sit with them. it was sophomore year
& i survived between breaks by cat-sitting.
stayed at the window house 
where i pretended to be someone else's child.
the vacant bedrooms. in the yard 
bamboo that could not stop talking
about "the big city." we all have dreams
just some of our dreams are punishments.
i loved to eat at the end of the long dining room table.
you could tell she liked to entertain.
so many plates. all my faces reflected in them.
i slept on the sofa in the front room
by the fake fireplace. the graveyard got closer
every day i was there until there were
headstones in the front yard.
i worried aloud, "what am i going to do 
with you?" the cats stared out
at the new dead garden. i put a finger
to my lips & begged them, "do not tell
your mother." cats are, if nothing else,
enamored with secrets. i never wanted
to leave. i only regret not having the ghosts
in for dinner one night. we could have played
cootie catchers & confessed all the ways
we have died. when i left, their packages came. 
brownie pans & knives. i buried each
to the spirits' delight. by the time she returned
the cats were walking on their people legs
but, to my relief, the graveyard was gone.
i still miss them sometimes. the obelisks 
& the smoothed face stones. late october sun. 
a chill that never leaves my teeth.