A Night at 12:47am

I lie on my bed, sideways, my foot on a bookcase

which cracks under the pressure of me.

The room gives the only light.

The water isn't running, they turned it off to fix the pipes

overnight. I wondered who'd want a job fixing water-pipes

overnight? I wondered what they did with the water

while it was turned off. I wondered if I was still paying for it.

I sat and listened to the hum of my life. The silence of life

is a hum. Like electricity. Either some modern principle

or some electrical synapse of my inner-vortex within my brain.

I listened to the house and heard it settle. Cracked its bones.

Lapped its mouth. Slept.

I listened to another sound as if someone was coming up the stairs.

Stood waiting outside my door. I knew there was no one there.

It was 12:47am. I heard the pull of a curtain.

There was no fear in me with this light.

I thought maybe I could communicate with the dead.

Ask it if it's worth dying. Or worth living.

The ghost didn't respond.

Instead I was reminded of you. This was not fear.

I can't pretend to hate you any more.