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voice of a ghost

by Betania Tesch

He is a grave robber
who flatters me
by pausing to assess
the value of my
meager tomb.

He combs his fingers
through the dust settled
and breathes the air of
long dead girlhood
mixed with crushed hopes,
intoxicated by the allure
of something so neglected.

He pries me open
and fingers
my scant treasure,
pockets my bland riches,
sees me as worthwhile
unlike the others
who passed me over
laughing.

And I let him.

07/02/2004

Author's Note: not really in the mood...

Posted on 07/02/2004
Copyright © 2020 Betania Tesch

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Max Bouillet on 09/23/04 at 02:19 AM

Powerful verse that speaks of disillusionment and the effect it has on us. Great read!

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 11/23/12 at 03:44 PM

This is a great read. That first stanza caught me like a strong web. Congrats on POTD!

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