by Ellen Pepper
The accordion player came to visit last night.
He was standing outside my window when I got out of bed.
It was a lemony sunlight kind of Spring day.
His expression was melancholy. He looked much older.
I asked him what he wanted.
He said he missed me.
I told him that he had to leave -
that we weren't married anymore.
He wanted to be invited inside.
I refused.
He insisted.
Again, I refused.
He came closer to the window and I told him to go away...
because he was dead.
"Why do you think I'm dead?" he asked.
I told him that he was standing in mid-air,
outside a second floor window,
that he'd been dead and buried these 18 years,
and that this was just a dream.
© Ellen Pepper 2022
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