I ran out on the sidewalk
under the broken streetlight
dry leaves chuffing overhead
like someone rubbing their palms in a black room
a muffled radio from a parked car
blue drool dribbling from its tailpipe
the green needle of the radio dial
like a knife’s edge in a dream
I heard you calling my name
like I was in trouble
like you were right there beside me
with an unwashed cup in your hand
but I knew you weren’t outside
I watched you leave the yard
barefoot in your robe of fireflies
I knew the house was empty
the lukewarm sleeping flank of the drier
the dishwasher’s matted pelt
the long black velvet box of the hall
blood on the keys
I was always the child who had to look
who went in the study with the torn chairs and stuffed birds
who upended the trinket box and found your fob
my breath rattling in my throat like bones shaking in a dice cup
I saw the hot coil a carful of blue smoke
why didn’t the driver help me
Mother shrugged as you led me away
to the inevitable chamber
where dead girls moulder in velvet gowns
locked in like wives