You enter with a long scream down a dark chute.
You can’t remember where it is you came from.
Anyway it is much too late to return.
Your very breathing deafens, the push and pull of blood
through familiar locks and sluices triggers violent tremors.
Somehow you anticipate a staircase and know where it leads.
Your keys sits on the mantel, your coat hangs in the closet,
with tomorrow’s clothes arrayed across the bed.
They conjure a ghostly two-dimensional you.
A foot appears from nowhere, send you sprawling.
Something grabs for your hair and laughs.
Unseen fingers reach into your eyes
and cigarette burns appear like curses.
But surely there is some mistake.
The table is laid, the silver polished,
everywhere rich woods glow softly.
It’s clear they’ve been expecting you.