"I am haunted," the man says,
"by my mother's ghost."
He pauses before continuing:
"I realize the exact nature of a ghost
is anyone's guess--
one of life's (or death's) many mysteries--
but I understand, at least, this one's origin:
nights without dinner,
a horror at perceived impropriety,
a shunning of trespassers..."
"So now my mother's ghost
inhabits the crowded attic of my heart.
She clucks her disapproval through the heat vents,
He looks frightened.
"I spin," he admits,
"between cursing her spectral presence
and becoming it."
Text and image © 2015 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.