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GHOST STREET
Here—
Here are the warm leaves of autumn
Fallen into winter
Slender skeletons
Fluttering on the road
They are the children of no parents
Barefoot in the gutter
Bangs
Shadowing their eyes
They are the promises long past:
Mother to child,
Friend to friend,
Stranger to stranger,
Whispered out into nothing
And borne on the years
To this place
They are the moments
Never set in stone
The blood that was never avenged
The secrets
That died with old women in attics
Remembering
When they were young
This is the place
That letters come to rest
Tattered,
Ripped,
Disjointed scraps of parchment
That once
Were thoughts
Where engagement rings twinkle in the mud
Beside children’s plastic jewelry
Where tears make tracks
Like a trail of stars
Winding off into the blackness
Timeless
In this lane that runs parallel
To Memory:
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