The mind moves, not alone


The mind moves, not alone, 
in the darkness. My ghosts 
are gray and leave shadows 
behind me, ghost shadows
disappear into evening as it falls.

There is a tiny laugh; I feel it rise
in my throat and then die. As it dies
in the blue-white sky, I betake myself
away from ghosts, away from shadows
and stand in broad daylight, seeing, not seeing.

Only thing following me today is ghosts.  
I touch your stony skin and scrape myself raw.
Don’t laugh at me. There are worse things in the world 
than ghosts. You just might not be able to see them.

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