Eleven O'Clock

The front door was hard and heavy, It shut behind me on the house of ghosts. I flattened my feet on the pavement To feel it solid under me; I ran my hand along the railings And shook them, And pressed their pointed bars Into my palms. The hurt of it reassured me, And I did it again and again Until they were bruised. When I woke in the night I laughed to find them aching, For only living flesh can suffer.