You are not human; you are a poltergeist trapped in a meat suit. Tea leave salves, moonlight strolls, these calm your restless spirit. You possess a skeleton but you are not made of bones. Cartilage fades without you, flesh slips away, blood solidifies a corpse. But on a rasping breath you will leave it, drifting from desert winds to tropical typhoons. You shall hear songs and whispers, prayers and laments, privy to the world’s secrets. And a day may come when a breeze carries you through the hollows of your abandoned crown and you will rise from burial dirt, a memory made to haunt the world.
Next Poem >>