Ghost Let Go

The trash bag at my door—gone, someone took it. In the shared hall, I see a ghost from years ago. A glance, three short lines, one long breath— We look at each other like catching, releasing ghosts. Do we both think the other’s faking it? The line between man and phantom is only light. A few ghost-words, truth-words—thank you— Thanks to her, crossing over to hand me a napkin. And antibiotics? A hospital chief stopped them all. The ICU patients with lung disease began to heal. The rest of the doctors fell silent, Stopped asking why. That’s ghost talk. A gust of wind becomes cloud. A small illness, a ghost beneath the skin.