Wednesday, October 25, 2017

A Clear October Evening

The only ghost I see
          is my own reflection in the glass,
Which doesn't look like it could ever be real
          much less hold some key to nether worlds
Folded like cards into air

The night construction crew beyond the glass
          looks slightly less likely to
Disappear at any moment, though it does

But still the pull of the unseen
          calls through the lamp-lit boughs,
These bodies moving down the ramp
          must have something pulling them through,
A force to feed the stream or move the leaves

The past's crouched like a tiger
          in an empty field
Although you can't see that either

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