by Lynette Mejía

Here the ghosts persist
assembled in layers of history
the ordinary deaths, the nameless
the faceless sandwiched between tragedies
stacked in codex. Here we'll sit
quietly, you and I, our feet buried
in soft grass and listen as they sign
and sing and sigh among the leaves.


Lynette Mejía writes science fiction, fantasy, and horror prose and poetry from the middle of a deep, dark forest in the wilds of southern Louisiana. Her work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, the Rhysling Award and the Million Writers Award. You can find her online at www.lynettemejia.com.

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