24 Hours in the Lost House

1.
The spectre of Lady Diana escaped
my dreams; the ghost of River
Phoenix escaped my mother’s. They live in a lost
house. Lost things are a class of spirit—aren’t
they? In the mornings it’s summer and River
tap dances in the attic, his shoes shake
the walls. Without fail, Diana says, Sounds
like rain, doesn’t it? If you see River
before noon, he’ll tell you his ashes were
scattered at his family’s ranch. I bought
that ranch. I had three siblings. It’s important
to him to remember the number of
things. He looks deep into a mirror and says,
When the ambulance arrived, I was still alive.

2.
Then River jumps rope. Diana has heard
this before. Plates thrown, like frisbees, out
the window. Diana combs the grass.
Missing pieces are found by bare feet, blood
on white ceramic. A promise she breaks.
At 1 o’clock, the yard tears in two.
River slips through the crack to an underground
bouncy castle—pink. As always, there’s the sound
of horses and as always Diana
is too late. The pansies wilt. The trees turn.
She picks the last of the plums. Hands sticky
with juice, she remembers a gold horseshoe
stitched into her petticoats on her wedding
day. None of us are lucky enough. Pitting
a plum, a bruise the shape of a promise.

3.
Tongue to wound, sickly sweet. Now it’s winter,
a yellow sweater, a knife, and a map
appear. Diana refuses them, looks
deep in a mirror and whispers There is
no such thing as magic, there is no such
thing as magic and yet she believes
the perfect party will call him back.
She cloaks the mirrors and draws the curtains.
Diana knows she could try harder, but
it’s still the afternoon and she’s young.
By evening, she will learn she should have buried
the map, worn the sweater, and pulled the knife
along the windows. Pots of pansies bloom
when River rises.

4.
River stares at the crack in the earth
I had four siblings, not three. Diana
turns on the radio and pretends
she can’t hear him. River shouts I know
I’ve been no good, I’m not expecting
any awards! Then he disappears
into a wall. At five p.m., they meet
in the kitchen and make whipping cream
in the stand-mixer—even though the hand-mixer
would have been easier to clean. After all
even dead hands want to hold beautiful
things. Diana makes her way to the crawl
space. Where her tears land, seedlings sprout. Wispy
green and almost nothing. The stairs creak.

5.
Diana turns the gold band on the fourth
finger of her right hand. In death, she still
wears it here. To move it would mean something
had been different in her life. She lays down
on the cement. There are cobwebs
in the corners, there are flowers in her eyes—
lilies, roses, tulips, and, of course, pansies.
Pansy is derived from the French word “pensée”
meaning “thought”. Lately, Diana’s thoughts
have been full of myths, of what is required
to remember a story where no one
got what they wanted. The gold band was a gift
from a man she loved, a man she would have married.
The “Dis-Moi Oui” ring; the “tell me yes” ring.

Clara Otto's writing has been published in the Ex-Puritan, Foglifter, Plenitude, and elsewhere. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of British Columbia. Find her on twitter and instagram @claraotto411.