more arguments with ghosts

You Visit as a Bird, a Hat

 

I am dreaming or remembering.

 

In the backyard, a flaming hysterical cardinal (or your red cashmere cap) kneads my scalp with tiny sharp claws, as if to burrow inside.

 

You tell me your hair didn’t “dissolve” – you shaved it first.

 

And the restapled fabric of the brim fills the air with the sound of someone’s questions, and seizes my knuckle with a greedy, peanut-shaped beak.

 

You are making that face again but you don’t quite have a “face”.

 

Knit circles in the shape of roses glued above the left ear, throat pulsing with melancholy whistles, a black riding cap slops about your skull, loose after chemo dissolved your hair.

 

I start to ask if this is the “ghost you” or the” real you,” then stop myself.

 

Sometimes I type, “you are I” when I mean something else.

 

Beside a two-dollar beret the pink of self-pity, a redwing blackbird lifts and swings into mist.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: