I Am Why Your Ghost No Longer Speaks

I Am Why Your Ghost No Longer Speaks
from Gebo, 2021
 
Your ghost walks by my side
chills iron bars to keep me waking
 
we navigate the paving slab’s follicles
where trees protrude
and clutter The Gray Man’s face with green
 
wise to the woes of Orpheus
the pallid words of his poem
 
we do not turn; will not turn
 
cut a finger off to make a compass
whittle down the failed flesh
let it spin, let it spin
 
This is the street where bombs fell
in perfect iambic pentameter
da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM
 
I am coarse like shrapnel
lodged in the sod
 
I am why the trees wish to escape
abnormal invading presence
 
I am why your ghost no longer speaks
 
staves of an unfinished song tied in knots
syncopated rhythms and a cosmic reunion
 
Take comfort in faith 
as a companion
not in an unmade godhead
but in the all-seeing eye
holy ward — I am waiting
 
until swallowed by the sallow tears
of the heavens
hand in hand with a deadened dream