Archive for May 28th, 2008

Ghosts start piling up, spill out of drawers,
displace pots and pans in cupboards. Ghosts
have psychic weight – they will not float,
sink down to the lowest levels,
pile atop each other giving the illusion
of some density, they make it difficult to
back out of the driveway. Ghosts move into my office,
watch me write, waft round my feet in
clammy eddies. The temperature of ghosts

is not a fairy tale. I turn most of them out
on cold spring nights to hover
round the base of trees, protect
my seedlings from hard frost.
My ghosts have aged with me; well-worn regrets
return home soft and rounded at the corners,
missed opportunities still carry
sharp and and shiny edges. My ghosts are old,
napped, puffy, silent but for shallow
hints of sigh, so I begin to quilt them

late at night, join edge to faded edge,
a quarter inch allowance for the seam. In
lamp-light after midnight I can almost
see the pattern.

~Margo Solod
Some Very Soft Days

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