Thursday, August 18, 2016

hungry ghost festival

hungry ghosts.
i imagine
mouths like chasms
breathing in the meat of this world,
not pausing to chew.

my ghost
he has his hungry moments

not today
not hungry ghost festival day

today the sun catches
in the pool blue glass of my goblet
and the heat soars to the cerulean sky

my ghost walks in the garden
shakes his head at the weeds
pauses, 
to stoop or reach 
inspecting a fading rose here
a rabbit chewed leaf there

he is hungry maybe, for the heat
he doesn't seem to feel it,
in his red wool jacket


at night, though,
in the bitter air conditioned room
he slips between the sheets 
hand neither hot or cold against my ink kissed thigh
but heavy, present, 
hungry as he moves across my skin

2 comments:

  1. So happy you wrote a poem for the Hungry Ghost Festival! Very nicely done : )

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