Our Ghosts

sink traps without a catch

the last grocery bags

stacked up in a pile

a laundry sack;

scratched up for the automat

the cats figure that you'll

be gone for a while

we could not block the arrows

that poisoned your heart

betrayed from the beginning,

now too spoiled to trust

we'd work on an ending,

but where would we start?

I won't pass my judgements

for judges to judge just

hashing out contingents

with your ghost

the meaning-well, misguided talking

shit committee gathers

when their tragedy ignites a fire:

dormant, weeping, battered

and the pattern is embarrassing

it only makes me sadder

now I finally realize it

and I wish it didn't matter at all

don't push, don't pull

act, enabler

guilt pays off in full

pay your maker

I'll be opposed to every argument,

be ill with every lie

I'm not looking to be a hero

I'm not looking for a fight

I'm working out contingents with your ghost

sorting through specifics with your ghost

explaining my position to your ghost

I'm seeing double vision with our ghosts