You linger in the corner of my closed eyelid
a ghost with iron hair and skin like ivory,
dressed in a waistcoat and suit, bloody tie,
I remember the feel of a velvet settee and
your hands dancing across my arms, laughter
like bubbling champagne, but the ghosts of
your memory are faint, for I sleep too deep
for dead men’s harbors to throw anchors in
and reach a mermaid girl drowning in a linger
of fluted crystal glasses, smooth obsidian eye
that bends to fill with sunlight, you are all
shadow and mist, and when I wake, you are


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