Waking Up in October

by Eileen Murphy

The autumn time-change:

the door from death is permeable,

Grandma, brother

knock for attention.

I ask them questions

with blood & photos & flowers & tears

& they answer as best they can

though I’m too old

to hear clearly,

can barely make out their words.

Tonight, Grandma is young

& hopes to marry someone

who’s not a brute.

Baby Brother  

is still 16

& surfing all these years.

After,

dog barks me awake. I whistle

her in. She curls at

my feet, filled with light—

* * * * *

A former Chicagolander, Eileen Murphy now lives 30 miles from Tampa. She received her Masters degree from Columbia College, Chicago. She teaches literature and English at Polk State College in Lakeland and has recently published poetry in Thirteen Myna Birds, Tinderbox (nominated for Pushcart Prize), Yes Poetry, The American Journal of Poetry, Rogue Agent, Deaf Poets Society, and other journals. Her website is mishmurphy.com.