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Ghost Story
The translucent hand manifests in mine
Under the cover of my paling skin.
Our spiritual essences entwine,
Braiding in the body, knotting within.
A portent of the coming possession
Is the reanimation of my mouth,
A séance conjured type of expression
That cools the air like arctic winds blown south.
Paranormal peripheral vision
Enshrouds the clouded edges of my eyes,
Resurrecting thoughts gone from excision—
Poltergeist thoughts that were left out to die.
This body of mine then becomes a host
For the haunting of an etheric ghost.
poem
by
Tim Stensloff
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