my brothers stomp down the sand on my body
we laugh as soon as I can't move
damp the beach sticks to my skin, sanded down
till my teeth start chattering like the shutters of an abandoned house
where, earlier, a body was laid out
there, I cover the walls with tape
shapes of bodies over the ceilings, beneath the floorboards
legs drawn out over the skirting boards, heads in every doorway
as many bodies as possible are assigned their space
until I can see where the accident took place
is it a home or the air that is haunted
the white noise or a radio
decaying voices with or without echo
(a mother calls out 'dinner is ready'
and so the kids come down
to realise the table should still be set)
I push a planchette over the shapes of a body
like I would over the letters of an alphabet, yes, no
never knowing if it works
in the lid of the oven, I stick a list of words
like condolence, appropriate facial expressions
drawn out on the same paper
where I keep track of every chore:
cleaned the house, burned the body
laid out the tape, went to the beach -
I have to remember as much as I can, one day I might have to
give a speech, say my goodbyes, remember somebody, forget
Published (NL) in Niets eeuwig dan het ogenblik, de 100 beste gedichten uit de Gedichtenwedstrijd 2022 (2022)
Imagery: Merit Vessies