I've sensed ghosts more than once,
a kind of plucking from the memorious air.
Always they reveal themselves as lost,
on what's loose in me, some last words
I never said, some I did. I've heard
they can't live
if fully embraced, if taken fully in,
yet I do nothing but listen to their
the everything they never say.
If only I could give them what they need,
no, if only
I could convince myself these things
must die as naturally as apples
on the apple tree...
but that's Nature, which is never
wrong, just thoughtless and without shame.
-- Stephen Dunn
x-posted to greatpoets