Three Times I've Come Here

THREE DEAD people I love stand in my bedroom, their bones warped, eyes crushed. They stand over me for eight hours. I'm wide awake, horror passing in waves from foot to scalp. They plead wordlessly, with flattened, lightless eyes, that I come off my two-day slip. My first d.t.'s--and after five years in AA. Horror so convulsive, it's blissful. For my dead to rise up and visit me--what greater warning?