The ghost at my feet is
Billowy and brave till
The very last of its will
Lies influence its all-encompassing candor
It follows me around, omnipresent
As if not here but not gone
Either— dispelled at once
By the wind’s spacious strokes
Yet it always finds its way back
To trip this buckle that I’ve left
Undone
To the wire
To the bone— striking
It’***** home— yonder
The younger woman crying
Beyond her I hear it gallivanting
The ghost carries its own
Distinct energy—
Its smirk is omnipotent, lush,
Extroverted
In the silence that reigns
The death of grandma's face
Feigns a shadow below
It’s taken its toll, as it’s done
So many times before
Despite the decades
Its presence never truly fades
Like it’s torn between leaving
And haunting me, forever
In some humorous eternity