The dead watch me
as I walk down the hall
I hear them whisper
among themselves
mournful, mindful
urgent or ironic
I cannot tell
when I turn
to look
mist gathers
behind my eyes
and they are still, silent,
poised within their frames
waiting…
This is a quadrille (poem composed of forty-four words) for dVerse Poets Pub. De also asked us to include some form of the word “whisper” in our piece.
In Other Words 