Saturday, April 17, 2010

St. Stephen Harding, author of "The Charter of Love"

The old Rite Aid is now

a haunted house. It instructs

us to feel the silver weight

of fear.

I moved home. I stare into

the gleaming mouth of the

abandoned train tunnel and

see only feathers.

The life that could have been

mine flashes before me over

my morning coffee. She is giving

up an ocean for him.

She holds my slender kitten

in her lap, looks nothing like me.

I gave up the white dress

that skims the floor.

As she walks towards him,

dandelions tremble in her wake,

marvel at the weight

of their own heads.

Are these ghosts?

I crack mine out of

my knuckles while


The sound is like nothing

I have ever heard.

No comments:

Post a Comment