Poetry

Almost A Ghost

I was in Gettysburg
one cold November
Alone
trying to get a book done
in a motel room fronting
the forest of tourist trinkets
that is Steinwehr Avenue
and very late I made my
way to East Cemetery Hill
climbed the back of the
Oliver Otis Howard
monument and watched
the stars while behind me
across Baltimore Pike cars
of amateur ghost hunters
were riding by the cemetery
snapping pics hoping to catch
spirits strolling between
the stones and I thought that
maybe I ought to thrust my
arm past the edge of my
granite perch and be counted
among the disembodied
but I chose not like the rest
of the dead I didn’t wish
to be bothered

Categories: Poetry

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