POEM A DAY 2020

New Ghosts

I'm already dead
But I'm a cute ghost like Casper
They don't really make cute lady ghosts, do they?
They are all moaning like Myrtle
Or haunted and roaming on moors
I'm a new type of faustina
The kind you can drink a beer with
And as you watch the liquid froth
In my translucent stomach
We can talk about all the places
You have yet to travel
I can't come with you, though.
I'm tied here to the place I died.
Don't worry, I'm fine here
Watching it all work itself
Around my shimmering form
I'll still be waiting when you get back
And we'll talk about how alive you felt
Learning new ways to say, "It tastes delicious."

If You Took Cooking Away From Me

I don't make lists anymore,
every new dish a dawn,
and events the practise
of mirror movements,
synchronous with the ghost
trailed last one,
are we catching up
did we fall behind,
but this too will pass,
everything will be ready,
taste buds fried,
like retinas by the sun.