a journal of fantastical poetry





Haunted

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.



May 22nd, 2016



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