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POETRY | POEM ABOUT HAUNTING PASTS
The Ghosts’ Story
A poem because — well — October
The ghosts’ story floats in poetic phrases
like autumn leaves as the music plays on.
Thirty years of walkin’ and talking
fit their bodies like a pair of soft leather gloves
so much the same you’d not guess of
the canyon between them
Did one say I do,
while the other whispered I don’t
happens, she all too well knows
ghosts echo their pain through time
bodies never forget
A forty-year-old scar detected
in the sharp edges of her voice
“How will I find you?”
It was the other G she was talkin’ to,
the one lost to a crowd of ghosts
that fit him like an old, stiff, weathered glove
so much the same, you couldn’t
see the canyon between them
He haunts her poems and days.
A ballerina waltzed through the blues
would a, could a, should a beens
finger-picked to rare feelings
of a perfect…
