Automatic

The chain starts its rattle, a metallic slow crawl,

and the vibration travels right through the main wall.

I check the wall clock and I look at the door,

forgetting for a second what the waiting is for.

A flood of orange light hits the gravel outside,

and for a brief moment, the heart is wide.

But it’s only the neighbor in his silver sedan,

a different house and a different plan.

The motor cuts out with a heavy, wet thud.

I’m left with the silence and the chill in my blood.

It’s a muscle memory I can’t seem to break,

staying alert for a ghost’s intake.