By Mir@ | Staff Writer

A ghost passed me by
Salt in the wounds of the albatross
It sat before me its legs in a cross
Past specter come fly-by-night

Flaunting silver hair
Not her brown hues
that made her muse
of all dreams heir

My jacket, grey and bland
mocked in browning shades
silver lines running in spades
shining like the light of Rembrandt

Prelude o’ coursing tears
wrapped by a blanket face
Vibrato sonnets sung in grace
waltzing into obtuse fears

One, apple, two apples
Out-of-frame, out of place
sweet nectar come de-lace
the whisperings of apes

She looked upon me
intensifying her stare
cloven mind forever ensnared
Breaking into a glass plea

“Who are you?”
And it looked around
It could not confound
“You are who?”

The moon witness to all
my testimony be true
else nothing shall brew
In my morning coffee brawl

I saw her neck marked by fingers
Confused in a trance I looked free
I put my fingers where the wound be
“Stop it, stop it all!” filthy brokers

The moon sheds light to it all
My morning sunrise to you I pray
Today, the day breaks twice, today
the reality of what went with-all

But the specter through my grips
flowed. Grasping at rivers
entitled broken fingers
Phased to another end of wits

I saw my fist at my throat clenched
my vision going blank
She turned into a drake
then again faded into the trench

left by the limelight of the moon.
My dreams my dreams may they be true
My shadow, my midnight easter at two
and in tatters , on broken knees I swoon

“The night makes fools of us all…
Our only comfort is
that sunrise should come…”