(unitled)

 

After my mother and sister died from a disease the wind blew in from ghost towns, the same white dress they both wore, in different eras, stood in the closet, as if a life of its own. I remember my sister wearing that dress while holding a prayer book, her mouth open, reciting a psalm with the congregation or pretending she was. At night, I imagined the dress freeing itself from hangers, hovering over me. I could feel it breathe. I could hear it whisper. When I worked up the courage to open my eyes and light a candle, I sat next to the old Singer machine and stuck stitching pins into my legs, just to see if I were really awake.

an unclaimed child
walks solemnly into church each Sunday
mouth open to receive The Word

 

Kyle Hemmings

(unitled)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s