Writing On The Wall

Even with the fear of haunted place, everyone is trying

to become a ghost.          As in the paid workers of this house left

names on beams in the attic.   As in the company’s name

inscribed upstairs in looping scrawl reminds you

of your mother’s             absent-minded rush to sign report cards. 

             Our lives are all about making trade-offs, 

knowing that we’re going to die; scrambling

             and wanting to be seen            and remembered. A century later

without particular care you mumble the names, a palpitation

                           of realization inside you             following. Whistling

               ghostly air trails in. Your spine           convulses at the sensation.

                           There’s no helping it. If you listen, you might

                                                                   still hear the sounds of chalk.

Charlotte Van Schaack is a queer poet who was raised in North Carolina but now resides in Washington, DC. Their work often explores the relationship between identity, memory, and landscape. She is the office manager at The Writer’s Center in Bethesda, Maryland and CNF editor for JMWW. Find her work in WWPH Writes, Dialogist, and Door Is A Jar. @cvanschaack.writes on Instagram.

“A bright blue graffiti message sprayed across a white metal storefront shutter reads: “IT WAS LIT….” The oversized lettering and trailing dots capture the fleeting language of nightlife and memory, freezing a casual street expression into an urban time capsule.” from New York Said Free to use under the Unsplash License.