the sound of childhood
drops
slowly
drip
from your bedroom ceiling
making rivers filled
with salty tears against me
against the wall
the shadows create
phantom scenes
behind the door lurks
the monster from last night
a newspaper vessel floats
among broken blocks,
forgotten doll heads and arms,
long black arms
that reach for your
feet
I was waiting for a familiar face
to greet me
my feet
dangling off the
edge.
the whispers below the sheets
unbothered by artificial light
continue their malicious business goodnight, mother says
I’m afraid not, it responds
the sound of doors closing
eyelids closing
split, splat,
the echoes of
drips
the sound of feet
the sound of fear
the sound of not knowing
the sound of childhood
suddenly silence
12