It’s Throwback Thursday! Today, I’m revisiting this ghostly poem written for the ironically named “Write or Die Wednesday” challenge, originally posted on May 13, 2015.
I’ve occasionally thought about collecting some of my favorite poems from this blog into a chapbook of poetry. If I decide to pursue that option, this would definitely be one of the poems chosen. So what do you think? I’d love to hear your feedback!
I see ghosts in the fog—
pale-faced shadows floating
above the surface, drifting into
what was, what used to be.
One dives down to kiss me—
grazes his frozen lips against
my cheek. He moans; I remind
him of a love long forgotten—
his only memory: her curly,
chestnut hair, how it wrapped
around his fingers like tiny
serpents, his blood flow halted—
stiff as stone. He tries to lay
me down, reincarnate his
devotion between the cracks of
a wooden bench— his limbs
disintegrate the higher he hikes
my skirt until only water
droplets lick my exposed skin.
Another fires cotton bullets
toward my head; shouts,
Who is your master?
Where are your papers?
I hear the crash of braided raw
cowhide behind me— the tip
of a feather quickly brushing
down my spine. The halo overhead
descends, tightens around my neck.
Dark outlines of limp bodies
dangle from willows.
I swing with them
behind the veil of weeping leaves
until the wind blows, the fog lifts, and
the spirits of my nightmare
wander into slumber
before the morning rooster crows.
I recently came across Write or Die Wednesday, which is a biweekly writing challenge that provides you with a prompt and lets you run with it. This week’s prompt was: