Today's poem is by Dan Albergotti

The Ghost
       

In the beginning you were surely there
for everyone to see—some sentinels,
a truant scholar, your own suicidal son
wandering through the fog. No one

had a doubt. Later it was harder to be sure
when you only showed yourself to the boy
and all you said had already been said
and the mother just gaped at empty space.

In the end you turned out to be as white
as bone. You were there if there was the ground.
And above it there was nothing anymore
but haunted memories to put to our base use.

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Copyright © 2023 Dan Albergotti All rights reserved
from Twelve Mile Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission