The Science of a Ghost

A tangled entity of a life not yet extinguished
A peripheral shadow in a paranormal dance
bound in its gothic atmosphere
the enormity of time, finite in its design
sadistic in its existence
listening for the infrasound of forlorn longing
hearing its silence
an insidious paralysis
a decimation of a hollow resignation
a haunting letter buried in its bones
disturbingly left to roam its visceral home
unbearably waiting for a death not yet vanquished

September…. 9/11

in my lost September

the air sighs a cooling breeze

the days sing with school bells

emerald colors start to slumber

and the soil asks for its rest

and under a harvest moon

are caramel apples and Ferris wheels

and nights echoing from a lakeside choir

yet there are moments in between

that are stained in sadness

with names written in dust and broken glass

the clocks stopped

the air screamed

endlessly lost is my September