A Future New Year

I am stacking dishes when I see you coming up the drive,
wondering after all these years if I survived
the coming of the ages
or if I drowned behind the veils 
years ago, as you approach

Your breath makes dragon smoke upon the air and then no more 
as you lift a hand, I hide behind the door
my fingers fluttering like moths
before settling on my apron
gripping, I hear you knock

I worry at the sleeve of my blouse, pulling threads like rosary beads
as you call my name, a sliver of thread slides under my nail and makes me bleed
I give a little gasp
and place the finger on my lip
a drip of copper floods my tongue

Then the coming of those ages fall on me again, like books toppling from shelves
knocking me on the head one by one, memories of hell
slip from the pages of an inferno
I hear your footsteps going down the drive
I did survive, but I don’t want you to know it

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