Poem: Unseen Ghost

Unseen Ghost

 

she glares,

a flame without red,

swollen yet empty,

ache on a stoic ember,

frizz on a lost pyre.

 

screams weak as lisps

crawl from her and sidle

under the rug.  no one hears

except the family’s

irish setter.

 

but she’s there,

stubborn in a crack,

wound size of salt

in a dust-speck sea.

 

once cutely pungent

now bitter as mold,

her grin only chimes

in a grandmother clock.

 

only the dog sees her

glossing the finial of a poster bed.

she fumes like an aftermath,

a roving quark, endangered

in mahogany.

 

wastelands of damask and lace.

 

every few years a real person

brushes against her thigh.

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This poem was originally published in Rivets in 2010.  I am re-publishing my work here, trying to consolidate, as well as publishing new pieces.