Ghost

The moon rises and falls
Within opal tears
Where the spirits of the night perform their ancient trance.
My embryonic ghost child makes its presence
In the cold, living world.

Having no reflection in shattered mirrors
Silver skin, cold as melting ice in virginal spring's gaze.
The spirit of death appears by my window
Glaring at life, slowly rising and falling.

The fawn curtains begin to sway
To a strange, silent melody.
My spine ripples down my bronzed skin
Goose pimples appear from nowhere
My body, trembling from dread
As the spirit possesses my falling corpse.

Death has arisen
Everything looking,
As it was before.
The ghost crosses over,
Discovering its eternal home.



~ Stephanie Nolasco

~ Sky