Sunday, September 20, 2009

Ghost Story




Ghost Story


Down an alley telling tales
to 12 year olds. They gasp,
scan the shadows for body parts,
and horses come from hell

(of course it’s lies,
no children were murdered here
and made into pies).

“Later when you go past,
you might feel a hand
plucking at your sleeve” and
see in the smudge of glass

a small child, moon eyed,
the image of yourself,
that year, that night,
so rapt and so alive

(it’s sad but true,
the only haunting here’s
by you).

5 comments:

hope said...

I love how you've described scaring yourself [usually with a parent's help] as such a rite of childhood passage. Nicely done.

Sorlil said...

Enjoying the series, are you really going to make a pop up book?? - what a great idea!

Titus said...

As above, so below.

What is going to pop up?

McGuire said...

This is excellent - precise and coherent ghost poem. As, hope, says you make this into a compact ghost scare right of passage. Capture it well.

I really enjoyed this- reading and rereading.

Rachel Fenton said...

I love ghost stories - and scaring myself witless - and this is right up my scary dark alley!