- Published on
Ghosts and their Claws
- Authors
- Name
- Lorselq
- @lorselq
The Poem
when i sit
on my bed
with what's writ
and unread,
i ponder
how the air
will feel
when the ghost
touches my arm
i think of
candles,
burning on
the mantle;
i think of
incense,
burning on
the altar;
i hope that
the words
come out clean
and i don't
stutter
or falter
when the ritual
is done
and the ghost
is come,
i dont know what
i will do;
maybe—just maybe
i will take her
hand
we will lock
fingers
and we will
lie together
until the flames
burn low
but that's not
how it goes.
as i set aside
the book
and look up
i
see
her—
the ghost.
she came
without me
calling
her hand becomes
like a claw,
and reaches
for my face.
i grin
my fiercest grin
and she turns
and flees.
i am
unshakeable
courtnee: 1
ghost: 0
tomorrow, i will
tell my partners
about how
i scared a ghost.
about how
her hand was cold;
about how
my stand was bold;
about how
the my command
was hers
to behold.
i could tell
a writer—
a thousand copies
sold;
but the real
terror
always and ever
is that unlike
the ghost
i will grow
old.
Commentary
I wasn't entirely sure whom I wrote this poem for until I saw the name (which I may or may not have changed), at which point I was like: "Oh wow! I'm still friends with this person!" Well, Internet-friends at least, which still sort of counts. I think they're truly a sweetheart.