FOR THIS WEEK'S Magpie Tales, Tess has presented us with this image...
THIS PLACE
I sleep a lot
in this limbo,
rise in ectoplasmic splendor,
at this place
of crowded gravestones.
I restrain myself
from frightening
a grieving mourner,
who weeps over
newly turned soil.
But mischief pulls me
to drape myself as smoke
across a granite memorial,
to form a cloudy
question mark.
With memory and yearning gone,
other wraiths, by habit,
rise with the moon,
to float on winter's air.
I stir, as if from a dream,
to wonder
what I'm doing here.
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