Reanimated Lavender Granola Switchblade Nun rides again.

Sunday, May 4, 2008

A Ghost Gives An Interview



A ghost gives an interview.


Of course I haunt, of course...(she mutters as crockery flies across the room and into the wall)


I cannot leave this house--


Can't go shopping,


Dancing,


Can't work my mojo on the guy at the sandwich shop, just to see if I've still got it


Plus, (she adds, as a terrible groan comes from no place, everyplace)


I've been wearing this same dress for 350 years.


Look, (she continues, as the temperature in the room drops precipitously)


I was just going about my life,


Doing the god-blessed mending or something,


And didn't even know I was dead--


Never knew!


If I had it to do over, (she concludes, as the lights suddenly go dark)


I'd sing at midnight, drunk as anything,


And kiss another woman in front of god and the world;


But,


Instead, I'm a ghost, giving an interview to you, dearie--


Dead,


And with no end in sight.

6 comments:

  1. The part of this poem that reached out to me was:
    "If I had it to do over, (she concludes, as the lights suddenly go dark)


    I'd sing at midnight, drunk as anything,


    And kiss another woman in front of god and the world;"

    It speaks so clearly to the part of me that is trying to be my true self, and not worry about what others think.

    Thanks for stopping by my blog.

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  2. why does this make me chuckle so? it's painful, but somehow you make it light... v.well done Ms Fireblossom

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  3. I seem to do that to you a lot, don't I, Miss K? LOL. Thank you for your kind words, and yes indeed, I love to take a serious point and wrap it in absurdity.

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  4. That was very powerful. I got chills. Chills in me is a sign of a good poem.

    Would you like to exchange links with me? I placed your link here:

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    I would be honored if you would consider linking back to my site and blog.

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    ReplyDelete
  5. You have a knack for creating characters, Shay. Do you write short stories, too?

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  6. Oh, girl. I just don't appreciate this (but I also do):

    "I was just going about my life,
    Doing the god-blessed mending or something,
    And didn't even know I was dead"

    I would sure like it if you'd stop writing poems about me. ;) Oh wait, this was years ago.

    "I cannot leave this house--
    Can't go shopping,
    Dancing,
    Can't work my mojo on the guy at the sandwich shop, just to see if I've still got it"

    Yeah, yeah. You're awesome. Ever get tired of hearing it? :)

    ReplyDelete

Spirit, what do you wish to tell us?