Bop: Haunting
By Lyrae Van Clief-Stefanon

In the evening she comes, her same unsatisfied self,
with the hard, smug look of salvation. Mama,
stop bothering me. When we argue, she says
what you’re saying is not scriptural.
You need to get back in your Bible.

In one dream, I slap her. I’m tired of her mouth.


I hate to see the evening
Sun go down


Yesterday, I dreamed a vampire
held my wrist, dared me to wake
to her, corporeal, stolid. Mama,
was that you? I refused to touch
her body in the casket.
At the gravesite I refused everything
but dry-eyed silence,
her picture in my hand.

I hate to see the evening
Sun go down


This is what I get for conjuring—
Mama, after me all night,
fussing about the holy ghost
when what I need is sleep.
But last night I lay dreamless.
I didn’t sleep sound.

I hate to see the evening

Sun go down

Bop: Haunting Copyright ©2002 by Lyrae Van Clief-Stefanon. Reprinted from Black Swan by Lyrae Van Clief-Stefanon, with the permission of the University of Pittsburgh Press.