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
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…