Anyone Know a Good Exorcist?

I don't want her haunting me.
It's hard enough to face what's
Here, the daily regimen of: rise
And force an aging, aching body,
Over hours, across endless floors,
And up and down uncounted
Ladders, bearing boxes, diapers,
Rugs, onto and off of shelves,
And, afterward, to home and
Desperation; no. So briefly
Present in the flesh, she warmed
Me with her words, her laughter,
Thrilled me with her lissome
Form, but she is gone. She
Won't be back, and her ghost,
What was, makes what is
Unbearable. I tell the thing
That, disembodied, it's
Not what I want.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 73 times
Written on 2014-10-29 at 20:47

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