The ghosts do come crowding, at this time of year.
It must be the dim and panicked backspin of the sun,
unable to find its footing, or maybe the long chain of money –
never long enough – jerking to its end,
punching the trachea. Last night your phantom
loaded me with gifts in gentle forgiveness,
and I woke up tearing the sheets with screams.
A response to a morning porch response.
5 comments:
They do come crowding indeed.
I love "the dim and panicked backspin of the sun" and "the long chain of money - / never long enough - jerking to its end."
I think I dreamed of you recently. I had forgotten, in my waking mind, but reading this poem reminded me. :-)
I hope it led to a better waking than mine! :-)
xoxo
This is why we put up lights and force down cheer, to keep the ghosts at bay.
Ah me. Take care of yourself, keep warm and well, a happy Christmas to you, dear friend.
Oh my, merry, merry. My trachea was well punched this season. My pockets: singed. The ghosts are relentless, year to year.
And a happy 2012 to you, Dale. ;)
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