I am sitting alone,

a hospital corridor,

a man with a bandaged foot,

a clock hangs from the wall,

music is porous.

I’m tired and feel boxed in.

Days long ago – for what?

I remember a certain cornfield,

kids building a clubhouse.

When we are dead, we said,

our ghosts will haunt this site.

I’m not dead, yet ghosts haunt me.

Each change is unacceptable.

I can’t cope with it.

Inside there’s still a girl with a cornfield.

I’m done with being afraid,

I don’t try to change things anymore.

I have different secrets now.

An old book, a memory,

the hiss of a cat.

I have to stop kidding myself.

by Cher Bibler