ghosts aren’t only
what has been
they’re also
what never happened
echo of songs
never sung
never listened to
fairy lights flickered
when no one was watching
woodsmoke curled to sleep
in the grass
you’re the drafts of dusk
that sifts the rusty rafters
songlines become sighlines
I like how the last of the light
lingers in the tree outside my window
clings to all its small leaves
clinging to the branches
sparrows dream songs
within the walls
I won’t speak to you again
I will still sing to you
songs white as whispers
same frequency as ghosts
in perpetual twilight
slow as dream time
my heart
more cave and cavity now
waiting for the collapse
your heart
more scar than tissue now
you’re scarring the scars
silhouettes pirouette
with the shadows
of marionettes
storm in the earth
night bright
with the peeled back
bellies of leaves
begging for the blade
a cobweb of strings
poured from the cross
that control our limbs
songs soft as September
whispers through the grass
I don’t think about the thorns
I think about the blackberries
of your love
how they reveal the labyrinths
of my fingerprints
that touches the dark
trying to find your face