Ghost

My ghost plays tricks on me-

hiding my socks and moving my furniture.

I curse my ghost when they pass through, and

a chill runs through my shoulders.

/

They jump out from corners,

play in the shadows above my bed,

watch me turn on the coffee maker,

menacing me from the fruit bowl.

/

I was dragging a chair back bitterly to where it belongs,

slurring out vulgar disdain,

when I locked eyes with my wide-eyed ghost,

shivering in place.

/

I loosened my grip on the wooden bars and felt like laughing-

My ghost is scared of me too.

/

Some months have passed, now

my body is a haunted house, but

my ghost and I split the chores-

Balling up cobwebs and sweeping the hallway.

/

We keep to ourselves, but

sometimes she sings me to sleep, and

my ghost has the voice of an angel.