Time Capsule

They felt the wind on the down of their necks.
After the murders, children
in the town dreamed of houses

melting into the sky.
Fear built its hive inside them.

But as they grew
their memories dwindled

like their bicycles that became too small to ride.
The graves
lay buried beneath the trees’

shadows. Parents split
and moved away. One sister
survived. One witnessed the dark ceiling
of every midnight

fall into her thoughts.
Reminders kept surfacing: a red bike
hooked to a chain link fence,

a note folded in a pocket
and put through the wash
until she couldn’t read it, until

it was grit between her fingers. But
she knew — You will only be a ghost

sliding through the trees.
This crumbling. Once upon a time
she sank her foot into the shoulder
of a shovel.