Headless

Headless     

There’s a headless person sitting on my couch

No it’s not as bad as that

no blood

no gore

no skin

just no head that’s all

No features to tell sex

(or even if they’ve had any)

A plaid shirt, denim pants

with old scuffed up workboots

waiting patiently for its top to come rolling back

(or perhaps being pulled back by its tongue)

It’s been there for sometime

not a sound

not a smell

not a move

I don’t look at it directly

I don’t sit in the same room

but it’s around me always

in or out of house

It’s become my inner shadow

and my skin has taken on a bluish tinge

my feet feel like dark old leather

I have to hold my head very still now

for my neck bones crack at the slightest nod

or smallest attempt at food

I fear it will soon have no reason

to stay sitting on my couch

Tressa Lee Breen

January 6, 2014