For Raj and Sheelvati Misra
Three opened cases of dentures;
Pearly eyes
Embedded in synthetic pink.
In the sheets, strands of hair,
Silver and curled, mercurial.
On the table, a letter from Texas,
Postmarked June, 1962,
The little boy handwriting tilted
On brittle paper:
Dear Daddy,
I miss you.
I hope you will remember to
Bring the car.
Don’t forget.
Please come home soon.
In the darkness
The souls of objects flicker,
Blink, fall through the air.
The house hums with their sound.
They walk around
Mirroring the shapes they have left behind.
Their bright hands brush my cheeks.
In the moonlight
They burn vast as fields.
They descend,
And in the world they are born again.
“Ghosts” was printed in Harvest Time, No. 5 of Inwood Indiana. Pick up the paperback from Prolific Press; the stories and poems published online are free to read here.
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