ghost (iv)

cradled in my arms,

smaller--than I thought, and dense

the sharp eyes filmed, the mobile face

still--the strong hands, slack

I can't bear this--I can't bear this stillness

this will--this will, at last

compel strength into my arms

drive air into my lungs

I cannot bear this slumping heaviness

I will rise, now

--holding it in my arms

while the night 

still glistens in my eyes

I will cast it up

deep into the sky--I see clearly

it rises loose-limbed

across the slivered moon

--it will walk strong, along the receding ridge-line

it will walk, eyes sharp in the dark streets 

of the future that has passed

away.

--I stand, smaller than ever

but straight

in the sun, under the trees

stranded

on the corner, among bright streets