I wait two minutes
center the windows next door
in the viewfinder
camera drops from my sweaty hands
thuds on the floor
way to go
hold the camera
to my beating chest
stop breathing
listen if Dad
thunders down the hall—
he’ll kill me
if he knows I have his camera
wrench me back from the dead
kill me again
if I break it
shaky feeling flutters
under the bone
in the middle of my chest
inhale until the room stops spinning
silence
turn back to my window
in time to squeeze
the record button
my mind is swished
smooth and level
like the lakeshore
fingers take over
as the ghost flies
from one window
to the next
he’s running in circles
in a spiritual ritual
it’s all on the magic memory card.