If Mr. Crunch Could Speak

Evie shrieks:

“Now we can’t call Dad,

and Austin will get away.

Or be caught by the ghost.”

peering through the binoculars

tiny Austin rocks on the raft

caught in the middle of my nightmare

Evie digs through the bushes

scratching her arms:

“I’ll look for the phone. Look for the battery.”

mist trails from the house

across the weeds

rolling on the water

heading toward Austin:

“Lucy, what do you want?”

Evie’s face blanks

her eyes roll upward in her head

mist curls from her mouth

thick and coiled

she speaks like a horse fly

or Mr. Crunch if he could speak:

“Happy kids don’t run away.

No matter how old they are.”

wave my hands in her face:

“What’s happening to you?”

“Protect him and protect yourself,”

the voice rasps

shake her arm:

“Evie, what are you saying?”

“Save the boy. He’s not like his mother.”

“What’s wrong with Austin’s mother?”

Evie coughs:

“Don’t stand there, Jayce. Do something.”

she dives into the bushes.