Poem of the Week

I saw a Ghost pass in the mirror.

Someone whispered something in my ear.

I said a word, and left.

Graves were scattered with mandrake seeds.

A bleating sound entered the assembly.

Gardens remained hanging.

Straw was scattered with the words.

No fruit is left.

Someone climbed on the shoulders of another.

Someone descended into the netherworld.

Other things are happening

in secret.

I don’t know what they are—

This is everything.