Nov 2 - What Things Are Not, Draft #2
Your ghosts can't find you
here, as the baby you mind
each Wednesday and Friday
tongues a cookie
and glares at the sky.
She is not yours. But her time
is as much yours as anyone's.
And if she spoke yet,
by default, she would speak
your tongue.
She will, if you stay
long enough.
Then forget.
The ghosts are not
here, not even
in the cathedral near the park,
not even
in the mirror of the entry way
in the home not your own
where you must go
Each Wednesday and Friday.
Pack up her toys
and take her home.
Soon, at last,
in evening hours
you will go back
to sleep
in a home that is not
yours either,
on a bed you have bought
in installments.
Your ghosts can't find you
here, as the baby you mind
each Wednesday and Friday
tongues a cookie
and glares at the sky.
She is not yours. But her time
is as much yours as anyone's.
And if she spoke yet,
by default, she would speak
your tongue.
She will, if you stay
long enough.
Then forget.
The ghosts are not
here, not even
in the cathedral near the park,
not even
in the mirror of the entry way
in the home not your own
where you must go
Each Wednesday and Friday.
Pack up her toys
and take her home.
Soon, at last,
in evening hours
you will go back
to sleep
in a home that is not
yours either,
on a bed you have bought
in installments.
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