There are a lot more ghosts
Now
Than there were before.
The earth,
And the heavens (of course),
Heavy
With ghosts.
Weighted down with
The new/old arrivals.
There are ghosts behind the ghosts.
There are legions of the dead,
Lined up to peer
Over my shoulder.
They breathe with satisfaction,
Upon the hand
That writes the word
Ghosts.
The millions of departed,
Disturb the air enough,
To stir the hair,
On my moving wrist.
They keep a place in line,
Patiently waiting,
For me to join them.
[Image] https://s-i.huffpost.com/gen/1315880/images/o-GHOSTS-facebook.jpg
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