Ghostly Inhabitants Poem by Mark Heathcote

I remember a music box,
the sound of heavy rain,
a feeling of drowning and
being alone, even in good company.
I remember singing Rain, Rain-Go-away.
My palms, wiping the condensation off
every which way, and then it clouded back over
as soon as touched, as though nothing ever changes,
as if time were a dripping candle
with no more a wick than I a soul.
I remember ghostly inhabitants
shocked to be seen and noticed
running to escape my languid gaze
and others that were intent on causing me interminable harm.
Creeping out from behind curtains to slit my throat,
so it was I who'd never come back another day.
Leaving them in peace alone
To sing rain, Rain-Go-Away
Come back another day.