Among spirits

Shimmery ghost
faces bloat the water
and thicken the reeds

Theirs the thin
scritch of a hinge
in an upstairs window

Theirs the old-
fashioned names that match
the heavy silverware

The blinds flutter
like rows of helpless moths
when they pass

For them we fashion cars
made of paper and paste, tiaras
made of dark-eyed seeds

For them fat bankrolls
of Mickey Mouse money, the smoke
unwound from Cuban cigars

A boat in the shallows,
two coppery coins
dropped in the hold


In response to Via Negativa: Night barge.

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