Sister’s voice on the phone
jars me from my lethargy
write to him

years are never kind
to ancient tumors
barely sentient in
abandoned tombs

The construct
that encased him
was not
of his own making
he inherited it
from our father
his older brother

write to him

I did not
could not
blame him
for anything
but deciding
I blamed him

I cut into
the rotting
wrought iron facade
the mouldering stones
and found
a garden

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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2 Responses to Ghost

  1. stephanie says:

    This is beautiful. Very moving.

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