Monday, December 17

So Much Like A Ghost

This, what
came to deflate
& lie
at my feet

is fumbling

off the leaves (
I saw grin & sprout
, guzzle sunlight
& die )is
shaking deathfully —

Once upon a time
it was four


the fingertips of
its shadow

tap dry rattles
on my cold windowsill
& I smile at survival

— To think I wrote
the wrong date on
its birth certificate,

& now it’s damn-
near smote ; I regard
, happy
to see it out
around love

not looking back
no, it’s all
been unkind to me,
so much like
a ghost.

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