You reach for a fry pan
in the same cabinet
your poltergeist father hides his stash of `secret` booze,
a graveyard of bottles buried deep, back, behind the cereal boxes.
Helping,
I open the arm of the fridge.
His chemo bills and appointment
reminders are pinned up the cold white front
beside preschool pictures of your brother;
I reach inside for eggs.
Soon, we are eating in an empty morning house,
sharing silence, spare sparse bursts of conversation.
This home
has a living ghost,
a slipping silence,
someone
slowly dying.
Originally published by The Impressement Gang 2015
Jonny Bolduc is a newcomer to the lit scene. A smattering of memes
and self published books of poetry dot his resume. He lives in Maine,
works as a teacher, and is a devoted guardian to three cats.