I don’t speak to ghosts

August 30, 2019

The rain sounded like a knock.
So I went to the door,
to invite it in.
Bewitched – water from the sky!
I find you there,
dry,
not alive.
I wish I could hold your soul inside.
But my new swell of presence
won’t allow it –
another dark subtraction, trickling
down at my bare brown feet.
Go – go –
with you, I’m not safe.
Don’t knock at my door;
you’re no longer part of this world.
I’m more cautious than I used to be.
I don’t speak to ghosts.
I don’t invite them in.
I no longer grind my teeth
in sleep.
I’m no longer wild like a banshee.
My haunted time is done.

Nisha Bhakoo