Ghosts

Ghosts love roses--

I know this

Because every time I wear silver jewelry,

I catch their fragrance

And they tell me

Senora,

Mira,

The constellations gather

At your throat and fingertips.

Ghosts are fine dancers--

I know this

Because late at night after even dreams have gone,

The rain touches the curtains at my window

Lightly,

As a lover should;

Finally, when I am as empty as a wine glass,

They give me music

And forgetfulness made of glass and wood.

So, give me my silver jewelry

And toss me down a fragrant rose--

Though I will not stir, I will be dancing

With the ghosts who whisper,

Senora,

Are you ready, now, to go?

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