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We talked about ghosts at work There are slaves in the attic Where the floorboards creak We have seen glasses and plates break, untouched, Our house was built on Southern ground in 1861 We talked about premonitions There were brothers dead in train crashes Where the steam boiled and metal buckled And sisters finding body parts in their sleep When I dream I see my mother Are you real? I ask I can't be asleep again Just more so now... She takes my hand with cold soft fingers she smells like her hand cream her eyes make little 'm' bird wing creases her face is smiling the way it always has she does not bother with mascara she sits bright and hunched in tallness Are you real? I ask I'm real. She says I wonder if tonight I'll dream of slaves The floorboards creaking Or of brothers And their hands thrown in train crashes Landing under metal somewhere In the woods nearby Of wholeness, Whatever being haunted means I am scared that nothing I do makes a difference I am scared I feel all of history pounding in my head I am happy to see her even being less real, sleeping **even if she is more so now**
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Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 10:38 AM UTC
Ghosts
We talked about ghosts at work There are slaves in the attic Where the floorboards creak We have seen glasses and plates break, untouched, Our house was built on Southern ground in 1861 We talked about premonitions There were brothers dead in train crashes Where the steam boiled and metal buckled And sisters finding body parts in their sleep When I dream I see my mother Are you real? I ask I can't be asleep again Just more so now... She takes my hand with cold soft fingers she smells like her hand cream her eyes make little 'm' bird wing creases her face is smiling the way it always has she does not bother with mascara she sits bright and hunched in tallness Are you real? I ask I'm real. She says I wonder if tonight I'll dream of slaves The floorboards creaking Or of brothers And their hands thrown in train crashes Landing under metal somewhere In the woods nearby Of wholeness, Whatever being haunted means I am scared that nothing I do makes a difference I am scared I feel all of history pounding in my head I am happy to see her even being less real, sleeping **even if she is more so now**
holly-salvatore
Written by
holly-salvatore
American
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 10:38 AM UTC
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