Seance/ Madam Lies


A strange hand atop, another underneath.

Clammy on one side, cool to touch the other.
Circle closed, our connection opens
to those gone before. Friend and fiend alike.

The air cools from ankle to brow and
words are lost amid a fluttering ring of hearts.
Hello. Is there anyone there?


Madam Lies

I gaze at the hand I’m holding until creases form words, telling me when, showing me why. They never come when they’re happy; only when they’re sad, lost or bewildered.

Wretched and hollow, her eyes are a rainbow of pain; the left yellow and purple, the right still black. She prays for anything more palatable than reality. I hedge, telling of meaningless events, things she already knows, bad peppered with good. Adages rehearsed, repeated and regretted. Watching her despair rinsed away by cleansing tears, I take on her emptiness.

This is easier than shattering dreams and dealing in fear. She crosses my palm with AMEX and then bounces out of the door, forcing another shadow of regret to darken my soul.

Smoothing the velvet cloth that hides the scarred table beneath, I listen for the screech of brakes and a life-ending thud.