POEM — My Haunted House

 

Why do I so enjoy

being a ghost?

Haunting my own home

 

sitting in an empty rocking chair

making the afghan sway

 

back and forth

back and forth

 

listening in

on happy dialogues

monologues

epilogues

 

of the most treasured memories

any person could ever hope to have

 

and being central

but absent,

like a ‘with regret’ response

on an invitation sent to the

Maid of Honour

or Best Man.

 

“Your peace is about to be lost”

shatters the experience like a cry

 

“Mama!”

 

and I am revitalized

by force

 

resurrected

to fight for my pen and paper.

 

All of my roles are made

present tense

and so must I be.

 

Only a shadow

of the ghost

remains over it all,

 

haunting this house.

Why do I so enjoy

being a ghost?

Haunting my own home

 

sitting in an empty rocking chair

making the afghan sway

 

back and forth

back and forth

 

listening in

on happy dialogues

monologues

epilogues

 

of the most treasured memories

any person could ever hope to have

 

and being central

but absent,

like a ‘with regret’ response

on an invitation sent to the

Maid of Honour

or Best Man.

 

“Your peace is about to be lost”

shatters the experience like a cry

 

“Mama!”

 

and I am revitalized

by force

 

resurrected

to fight for my pen and paper.

 

All of my roles are made

present tense

and so must I be.

 

Only a shadow

of the ghost

remains over it all,

 

haunting this house.

*

Alexa Farley writes poetry and short stories in the Georgian Bay area of southern Ontario. Her inspiration is drawn as much from the beauty that surrounds her as it is from her own ridiculous fallibility.