Stones take flight and the stars go home to roost. The whispers of unseen wings ride the fickle winds. The sidewalk rings with footfalls, the rustle of awkward costume mingling with the leaves in the gutter. A plastic bag haunts a chain-link fence and the cat is on the roof again. Every hallowed height has its fall.
The bell rings and each home claims its own. Windows battened down and doors shut tight. Pictures crowd the walls and shelves, all these cherished kin and other selves gathering dust. The earth doesn't distinguish between burial and bed, root and worm working their way through the blind insistent soil. Monkey up a tree, monkey finds a mask. Climb high enough, you're sure to show some tail.
Is it ever enough to remember? Is it ever enough to speak all those dates and names? The only life left them in our memories, our hobbled hearts beating hard and quick. The only choices left them only in our imaginings. They shuffle door to door, strange and hungry, wandering between worlds. They clamber through the shadows, only looking for a light.
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