Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Ghosts

After Cara Mujer

some silences, like soured linens,

the too long gone on

uncleanness

in dreams, smells become characters

that speak and move

one of you, in a house

of so many empty rooms you offer

but my child will not sleep

a billowing curtain is some

historical, hysterical woman

in a red floral print

she will not quit her haunting

until a tall opera singer

blasts the hallway with her clear

supersonic voice

one of you, you come to my house

while it is being built, I have

to wrestle the door moulding from your hands

and ask you to leave

one of you, I find you dressed as a teacher in the back pews of religious high school assembly with my old bible/computer science instructor, and I mutter through the sermon and the children ask me to leave

these vapors

and their faces

take so long to wash out