The cemetery was a test of how long
I could hold my breath
How strong a superstitious heart fought
driving past its sword-tipped fence
every black stake a wrought iron second
without inhale
each a private hope to dodge a curse
disarm the haunt
The lines between floor tiles held spells
in grout like glue
so I skipped over cracks down long hallways
stayed clear within concrete blocks
like lily pads over raging waters
cautious leaps on clouds that kept me
in the skies
And I have yet to learn how to press roses in the dark
after wilting in the day
How to gauge the endurance of words
from damaged space