You keep returning and I can’t say why.
I wake in the shrouded room and lie still for hours.

Sometimes you speak through the siding’s wind rattle,
in the rasping shingles or the gutter’s drain.

But who interprets these phrases?
No friend. No dictionary.

The dog barks at nothing and chases his tail
to exhaustion. Unlike sound,

light cannot penetrate these windows.
Perhaps the answer lies in the page’s hollow, between

words, or at the free end of a kite’s anchor,
wedged within clouds, echoing

like a cough in a decade’s breath
hammering down after a long illness.

I question afterlife, but dying continues.

This first appeared in Shadowtrain.


21 thoughts on “Ghost

  1. Didn’t realize the above reply-comment would negate what herein was intended to be effusive praise. Reprise? Sure. Really liked the imagery and composition and clever line ends and hops. “…words, or at the free end of a kite’s anchor” particularly fine. A dog “…chases his tail/ to exhaustion” another well-crafted example. Then in fourth or fifth read I noticed the two ocher-hued shake shingles on that steeply-slanted dormered roof. The first’s windows…what is it? Two images looking out or a reflection in the clouds looking for a lost kite? Bob, a fine time was had by this reader. Thanks.

    Liked by 1 person

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