hemlock

I cannot say what it is exactly,
but this is an old century.
I liked the last one better and so
cheap to hire for weddings, births
and funerals. Now headlights
lengthen changeling with a strangled
laugh. So early in the day
I have to tell myself what damage
is that can't be seen. Un-dreaming
ancient history, till then I will
remember fever teaching me
the formula. Though the night
is vengeful with amnesia. So many
years will always stay the same.
The less is understood what orbits
dislocate their images this way.
The head of a china doll
whose owner drowned you'd
almost think it were alive.
Such ghosts are mine. I like
my nightmares brightly lit.
But not the same.