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ghost
January 30, 2009
she gets low
airplane, sundays
laugh like it's all ok.
bullets and pages
of free magazines.
she dreams heaven
frothed clouds, pearl.
pills that never work,
seamless, she cracks
and remembers hell.
she tastes night
abismal, rotting.
it'll never be ok
starched whitedresses
the funeral's today.
she sits with a bird
ruthless, winter
she found in the snow
bundled in her gown
never felt this low.
god flipped the car
right from the earth
she thinks fleeting
burning screams right behind her
we're never far.
we're never too far behind her.
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