October 28th

…for Emily

It’s the 28th of October,
and the rain has gone to snow
icing the tops of the gravestones on the lawn
but not quite making it to the ground~

In a respit from the attic,
the ghost coasts along the front porch
in her ten dollar flea market chair~
a cotton specter flirting with the gales,
her gauzy gown catching and falling
catching…  and falling
like a gray lady patiently waiting
her husbands return from sea~
May i have this dance, she asks
may i, may i?

She is all girl…
with her christmas light inards,
all white except the two red bulbs
that have fixed her gaze-
a pumpkin in her lap
seated as a child would
her release from the eves…
as a watcher of graves,
of cautious mailmen and haunted children…
the laughing teenagers weighed with books
and the blazing flutter of abandoned leaves-
the joyous parade of all living and dying things-