Should I lock the door behind me...
Shut questions out...
Satin pillowcase dreams...
Spirits walk in the bedroom...
My Father carries his pool cue...
My Mother, her dish towel...
Many years. Time stops...
Memories wet the pillowcase...
Tennessee, my beautiful wolf...
Tiptoes to my bed...
Touches her cold nose to my cheek...
Tickles with her eyelashes...
I didn't lock the door...
Pillowcase is dry...
Morning pools of sun...
Light fur, chalk dust on the floor.
elysabeth faslund
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