She Knows There Are Ghosts
Golden fish of Hemingway
Sylvia Plath is lost in the mirror
This morning hides the war
We walk amidst dark corridors
She wrestles with aliens
They come out of closets
They peer with sullen eternity
She knows they are there
Roman legions march without dreams
Frozen like nightmares
My mountain is so steep
The quiet rain has morning fingers
The basement light is dim
My mother’s photo is true
My father was wounded in the war
These circles draw blood
Take that poster of Jim Morrison down
The hallway whispers
Something dead wants to make love to me
Why is the air so thick with confusion?
Don’t ask them if their there
They might answer
Is that a mouse I hear?
I wished I wouldn’t have read the exorcist
We must fight them
These creatures of a séance
Leave a night light on
Their icy fingers reach
Time is their end
She wakes up
What’s that?
She knows they are there
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Added by Poetry Lover
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