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behind me
a woman in white emerges leading the pack of hungry ghosts that wait for me the veil is so thin now I hear their whispers she stands at the crossroads holding a serpent staff she is my guard her torch lights an unknown path she smells of jasmine and moonflower behind her are all the lost souls her entourage is flanked by the grim reaper at first I mistook his scythe for a pointy hat but I could not mistake his grin for a smile only sickness was seeping out his pointed teeth a wild woman sits in front of a fire her hair is the color of mine an ancestor from long ago sees me through her smoke conjure my new friends won't leave my side I am one of them they tell me I see them in windows mirrors in pools of water the woman in white is holding a ring of skeleton keys she jangles them so that I can hear my destiny I open the door winding wind sweeps its way in spirits ride along contorted faces stretching like putty into smiles so ghastly I have to look away they are under my charge now a gift from the woman in white my vagabond spirits fill the house with a sigh changing forms to see what pleases me they touch everything like too eager children moving my knick knacks about until I ask them to be still and quiet they return to the back porch to wait until needed turning their strange faces up to the moon in meditation they freeze like statues I put the key in my pocket for safe keeping as the woman in white disappears in the windows reflection the grim reaper takes a bow and laughs when his scythe comes too close to me and I jump his laugh is thunder cracking the branches of a tree he follows her faint reflection and I take a deep breath so glad it is not my last
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AuthorMichelle Tinklepaugh Archives
June 2023
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