A ghost obsessively launders a sheet--

to be mindful of form, before donning it.

A timeless washing cycle.

As if a solutionless problem lie between.

It narrows down its enormity to a sheet,

because it notices without being noticed.

Despite another form contracting with

fear upon noticing it.

It knows it exists, but one-sidedness

doesn't suffice--it's more a matter of

one-sidedness than loneliness.

Its power of seeing is not met with the

power of being seen.

Disequilibrium haunts the ghost.

Though it's noticed just as much as the

sheet--if not more.

Whereas the sheetless ghost of it--is a

sheet in a more refined realm.