Eleven O'Clock

The front door was hard and heavy,

It shut behind me on the house of ghosts.

I flattened my feet on the pavement

To feel it solid under me;

I ran my hand along the railings

And shook them,

And pressed their pointed bars

Into my palms.

The hurt of it reassured me,

And I did it again and again

Until they were bruised.

When I woke in the night

I laughed to find them aching,

For only living flesh can suffer.