27. twenty-eight days i. the slight mention of your gray mansion sends phobia down my wrists, scrawling. clear sign that every feature I enjoyed, carries on, without my existence. your vitae reads, "in this house live 7 people, one who hated you; the rest 60's era strangers, you will never know." even though, in the seeking, we shuffled through houses as if tarot cards. ii. in my dreams, (and yes i dreamt of you often) i encounter men, dark- haired with snow flesh, and the will to love my body, once. occasionally one returns to humor me, and i begin to believe i enjoy lovers who come and go between waking, the bed still warm. iii. when i was 19, death scenarios paused in their rumbling by like traffic, for awhile. instead i kept myself occupied by seducing friends at least once a month. i was alone, and it was good to be loved. i felt like a hole at the bottom of the dead sea, but i told myself: to survive, this is how a modern woman feints.