|
| ghosts |
| She goes with ghosts again |
| those naked-spirit nights she dreads |
| when she would hope to sleep, instead. |
| Instead she'll watch herself |
| walk barefoot hallways of the things she cannot change, |
| and mark her path with bleeding nails, |
| her dress torn in the same familiar places |
| by forks of roads remembered, but not taken. |
| © Jon Bohrn (2000) |
