“We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together” TS Eliot
There by the door I saw
it
and I’ve never so quickly told
myself away from
the shadow
we’ve all seen just
almost. And maybe like
when I was a kid and my dad watched
upper half of his great aunt walk
across the foyer of our family home
that was also his family home before
I should have yelled. And
called everyone in to watch. It
seems there’s a chance
everyone’s already talked about it
but it doesn’t matter.
Because, there in the hallway
I stood, asking
me to go again behind the sun.