What happens to
Ghosts that lose
Their moans groans
Their scariness do
They become wind
Do they turn
Into a breeze
Or do they
Disappear
Making no sound
I wonder then
What you might
Be for one
Moment you were
Here and the
Next gone without
So much as
A whispered whimper
Leave me ghost
You shall not
Have me my
Soul belongs to
The living those
Who have hearts
That beat loudly
And bleed on
Sleeves when hurt
Be gone ghost
For good now
This night my
Heart will surely
Break it’s been
Pounded and tenderized
Before held together
By hope and
Chicken wire but
Tonight oh tonight
It’s going to
Be shattered into
A million tiny
Bits do me
A favor will
You scoop some
Up and take
Them because some
Belong to you
Fine I am
Fine I’ll be
A bit weathered
Some what weary
Now more cautious
Looking both ways
On one-way streets
It is still
Possible to be
Mowed down by
Some one reckless
Disobeying the signs
Law and propriety
I’ll just wait
Until the rush
Is finally over
To step foot
Again into the
Chaos of love
Gathering on some
Far off horizon
In the evening
After humid days
Rain laden clouds
Plump with tears
Billow and spawn
Bringing angry downpours
Of unfettered emotion
Standing here alone
Wondering if this
Is a bellwether
Of something else
Turning myself skyward
Accepting my doom
Soaked and dismayed
Like prairie flowers
Shaking off all
Torrents and deluge
To bloom again
A bit weathered
Like barn wood
Sturdy and strong
First they
hang
upon limbs
of flesh
outstretched
like grape
vines.
Next they
gather like
on-coming
storms; circling
trapped
in the
corner.
Today
they hang
like pelts
in my closet,
or lie like
psychedlic
igloos on our bed.
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 