which of my classmates have died
i know a few—an estranged best friend

an ex-girlfriend (sometimes i try to speak
to them in the afternoon lull)

then i feel like i know the others
who have gone because i can’t

picture their faces as still intact
but clayrubbed with flashes of wing

i wonder if anyone suspects i am dead
(i wonder if i do) sometimes my body

doesn’t feel attached sometimes i can
come and go

it doesn’t scare me like it did as a child
to slip into the lobby during the feature

hear the silver chatter of the ushers
feel them guide me back to my seat

with a pull on my collarbone
hear them tell me stay in your body

hear them say play your role
and pretend you never saw us

feel them stare at me
as i rustle in my skin

Scott Ferry helps our Veterans heal as a RN in the Seattle area. In former lives he taught high school, managed aquatic centers, and practiced acupuncture. He has four books of poetry: The only thing that makes sense is to grow (Moon Tide, 2019), Mr. Rogers kills fruit flies (Main St. Rag, 2020), These Hands of Myrrh (Kelsay Books, 2021), and Sea of Marrow(Ethel Press, 2021). He has two books upcoming in 2022: fishmirror from Alien Buddha Press and Skinless in the Cereal Aisle from Impspired.