Day 30 of 30 Poems/30 Days

‘Thirty Ghosts’

The children-ghosts
slept under my bed
like my boys.

In the night we moved,
like breathing ribs,
in unison.

But today they died,
one by one,
until I was the only one left.

I kissed their toes,
washed their chests –
my little boys,
my orphans.

I buried them,
under the sand,
below the horizon,
next to other bones.

I said: “God must want you,
to keep Him company,
to trace the sky-line
to laugh till the End.”

My boys are dead,
a long time gone,
just ghosts I dreamt up,
or memories of a lost song.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s