Poetry
8/1/24 - Invoked Spirits
I think that ghosts exist
In a simple mundane way
Ev’ry mem’ry gripped in agony
Ev’ry time you chase your tail
You sit in seance circles
Solemn, wishing to return
Ev’ry fool-vow to the past
Ev’ry hollow, empty core
Come now- the cards are set
Take your board and your planchet
Ev’ry spirit soon will appear
Ev’ry moment shall be bled
And in that place, I wailed-
“And yet you claim that I am dead!”
2/20/24 - Currying
This washcloth is my currycomb
The movements are all the same
Rubbed in tight forceful circles
Upon your stain’ed fur
Well-loved toy’s dirty white coat
The coarseness of ill-fitting handsoap
You are not a real unicorn
But you are cleaned the same
How guilty I am for forgetting
Your scratched plastic eye
Staring up with a hope
I know but cannot name
Innocence is not a fragile shell
But a stain that faintly remains
Even after I cleaned you
But I love you the same
Just as I did in a day faraway
Bedside companion in goldenhoof’d play
Tattered bow round our necks, in the mirror
Like an unspoken name
If you’re not a real unicorn
Well, neither am I
Neither am I
