Haint
Mama painted the porch ceiling blue,
said she was keeping out the bad spirits.
I didn't tell her what I knew:
the bad spirits had already made their place
in her bed,
in that worn-out spot on the old recliner.
Their jackets on the coat rack,
their dishes soaking in the sink.
Out on the line, hung their jeans—
same blue as the porch ceiling.
I didn't tell my mama what I knew:
that the spirits had always been there,
and they weren't leaving any time soon.
Sensual Decomp
Our first kiss, our last
Sleepless nights I toss and turn
And you, you not here to steady me
The curves of my body
Echo the memory of your touch
Hold me, held me
Lovless I am tired
Dreaming, though my eyes are open
I see you, hear you
Reach out, feeling nothing
Empty handed
This bed is haunted
Your voice, lovely moans
Murmurs disntantly from somewhere
I cannot see, find
You are here again
Silhouette carved into memory
An intangible embrace
You are not here, not here
Things that exist only in dreams