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Ghost image
You have delivered tectonic shifts
To me-
Wirelessly;
You have gagged & bound me in this box,
Chasing me-
Runaway fox.
Your simple photograph
Set me free,
Such a commonplace simplicity.
But, oh, with you, girl,
It was different.
I could curl your hair
Between my fingers,
Although it was not there;
And that sly smile
Dangling behind your eyes
Gave glory to the dawn.
There was the aura, too,
The aura hovering about you.
I did not know any more about
What was real and what was representation.
This could not be love,
So must it be infatuation?
poem
by
Stan Petrovich
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