I don’t think it’s me
that haunts you–
but maybe some idea of us
half-formed
threads a lightning heartbeat
through your ears
& flashes patterns
in the corners of your vision
almost seen
but not there enough
to touch
I think it’s he that haunts you
The ideas all flat and unformed
Him on a mountain, him on a stool
The patterns flash of him
Alone, stolen, beholden
To the ghost of you
Where you float
As a shade
And return but fade
And he wishes to touch
Not spirit but flesh
And you whisper as he sleeps
And flee as he wakes
Who is the ghost?
Who is the penitent?
You or him
She or he
Witnesses dispute
The existence of either
I have floated patterns
on that ceiling
where he sleeps
spun my whisper
with his dreaming voice
into thread
just spoken there
but binding when awake
who can witness passion?
or accuse desire?
such crimes leave no bodies
& disappear
after eyes open
***Had to take this out of my comments on “Ghost Story,” as Trent’s poetic response to my initial poem was so great… Trent’s voice is italicized and I am in regular typeface. Trent, this was impromptu fun!
Susan Daniels Poetry 
Excellent return Susan, and a fitting ending. I really loved the beginning of this one, bit on the ephemeral side, the vague side, the scary side too maybe. Honoured to have been a participant in one of your pieces.
Pleasure was all mine, Mr. Lew…
Don’t you just love a blog – great ‘conversation’ – great result.
I agree! There is no possible way minds can meet like this except electronically–I love technology, bringing so many of us together creatively!
nicely done you two.
Thanks, Audra–had fun!
love it…seems i’ve missed some good stuff while i was gone!
Aw, thanks sis–and not just here! 😉
Thought provoking. Made me think of the varieties of ghosts that haunt us.
Thanks, Georgia–Trent definitely added to the variety here 😉
reading this was like having my palm read.
Oh! What a cool thought!
The rhythms are interesting in this one – thanks for sharing, nice piece.
Thank you!