Let me speak of ghosts.
In your closet, they hide as you
Ride your car and meet the world
They sing songs you try to blur,
Scream secrets you try to muffle.
As you eat your supper or pray in the evening,
they sometimes die down
They find their way back, most heinously
In your jokes, in your hints,
In your darkest, longest, and finest poems.
And sometimes, that eases them off, but,
Never – altogether extinguished.