Ghost Body

Stuck working on the mist
and turning it into words,
knitted fine chain mail perhaps,
static movie screen of water,
or an enveloping indecision,
when my ghost body rose up,
tattooed with the biggest fights
with two wives, lumpy scars
from the stabbing betrayals,
raised walnuts upon the skin
from all the times employers
shot me. Scarier still, muscle
turned to massive cable
from the strength needed
to llive this life. Survive.
And I was 8 feet tall!
Eyes of sunken beach fire pits--
ashes, charcoal and sparks--
lips firm and in control,
errant hint of a grin so
surprising to me, I wondered
who I was...this beast...
a conqueror? Me? How?
While flying around out there
is my ghost angel of who
I thought I could have been.

No comments:

Post a Comment