A Custody of Ghosts
Silently...
broken
fingers
court the notion,
painfully
embracing
the very fabric of your
dreams
once hopelessly lost,
now...
perhaps to find
solace in those ghostly
arms,
enshrouding some
misguided love,
a marriage
undertaken
in the
worlds
between
the waking and the
midnight hour,
you strain to see yourself
pronouncing
the sweetest of sacraments,
a ring around the body
brightens,
unspoken testaments
to purify the air,
and you are there,
tucked between
a custody
of
ghosts.
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