glass ghost
full broom
before dead eyes i saw you
in my room – dark and dim – cold,
you were a fuzzy frail outline
around an old photo frame,
you stood perplexed– frozen
misguided by my cold scowl,
trapped inside another time
as an icebound waterfowl,
there wasn’t a creak behind the door
but your ghost i knew so well,
you’d beaten my dreams iced crimson
and buried them shallow and still,
was i always the dour glassblower
carving make-believe with your hands,
but now my heart has churned itself to dust
so don’t bother to utter that command,
