He swears that he can feel them sometimes, phantom appendages on his back twitching and thrumming with unlived life. “I swear mummy. I swear.”

I like the look of old, liver-spotted hands
Playing Rachmaninov with complete agility
Pounding out the chords or whispering the pianissimi

Because I was brown
they cocked their thumbs
aimed pasty forefingers
at me while they shouted
‍ ‍ Take that, Geronimo!

“I’d hear this man’s footsteps above me when in bed, trying to trap the sound of his feet with my eyes…”

“I laugh too even though I wonder if we all know it isn’t funny, and if so, why it is that we’re laughing still?”

“I’ve asked a lot of people from other places in the U.S. if they had a Horse Man. And all of them laugh and say no.”