issue-11 – PSYCHOPOMP.COM

My Great-Grandmother’s House, by Madalena Daleziou

I My great-grandmother’s house didn’t diewhen she left. They took away her onlyring, the moldy zines, the chairs andcoffee tables […]

On the ferry to the island, I saw a man dressed as a jester. His image flashed into view in

the ghost screams twenty-three minutes before your alarmmakes the towels musty dampall the damn timeshe shatters your favorite mugand hides

Beware the Bone Thieves The first day I set foot in the embalming lab as a wee mortuary student was

I don’t want the things they offer me. Warm blood and broken skulls. Grunting pigs and headless roosters. Bottles of

A band of children chasing a half-deflated ball past sun-bleached skulls and discarded femurs. Clotheslines burdened with damp linen sagging

take one moment, finely choppedsautée with onion, garlic, an anchovy if you eat fishprepare some bread and butterlet it rest

It is festival time in the Narrow City. The air is thick with the sound of rustling paper, as though

I wake in the nightwhen you don’t.You sleep beside a bassaris on a bed of pissset with figsand flesh.I sleep(when