It’s 2.02 pm.

I am driving past St. Bonneville

My home, my place of work

The gravestones shimmer under moonlight

Like broken teeth.

An illuminated grimace.

I felt my heart give an extra beat

An uncomfortable feeling of being watched.

I pulled the car into the rectory

Gravel spitting

I would need to change my clothes

Check the font for water before morning.

I heard the broken hall clock chime at 3pm

Making the night feel decidedly unholy

If it weren’t for the beat of my heart

The silence would whistle in my ear

The way your blood does late at night

on your pillow, pulsing, a reminder of life.

About to turn in, I hear the soft moan

A groan of someone in pain.

There is no sign of an intruder

I check outside among the gravestones

The air was still, not a leaf stirred

As if someone held me by my shirt tail

I stood staring, not expecting to find my name

written there among those broken teeth.

I made my way back inside

Ready to wash and lie down.

Looking into the bathroom mirror

With no reflection looking back

I realise I am the intruder…