I am a ghost.

Or was I? I believe I am standing in the rain, buckets pouring down on me I am

Slippery in slippers. Why am I wearing

Long loose clothing, layered chiffon blowing in the breeze high upon the roof of

Deep cold metal framework? I feel

Hot ash laying in the sun. My bones ache ooooh how

blistered and blushed up brushes forward

My hair. Black. Over my face. It is so dark so dark so I can’t see why can’t I

am a ghost.

Saw it! I glimpsed the pale horse, steam from his nostrils he lifted me

Up on high mountain

top of the windy cliff. The sea smashes

my ahhh I can fly now!

NO! I stand in my mother’s living room but wait, this is from before

She cries why? I can see her through

shades of gray silk I cross my arms angrily growling I am

a ghost.

But wait! There! Right there a scrap of paper with my name! Surely if

My name remains I must be

Alive. It is there written in stone. In the pale moonlight

in a cemetery.

I walk, the cold sleet slashing my skin and

I don’t breathe

in the air of the night brisk chill diamond cut

I bled

out of the darkness I see light I see light

blind

I am alive. I am a

ghost.