Do you believe in ghosts?
Before the rain, I snipped the heads
of brittle roses off their stalks,
then dug a hole in the earth for a handful
of herbs. A white moth clung to a trellis
and trembled the grid of wires. When the rain
began to fall in earnest, the wraiths of all
my loves and unresolved afflictions pursued me
indoors, then lay down with me upon the pillows.
They fingered my wrists and called me Darling,
Sweetheart. They told me of green ribbons
of snakes that flattened their ribcages to sail
through endless miles beneath the canopy.
They said, The body is a rivet. I stroked
their napes and whispered into their
orphaned ears, praying they would be kind.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.