Jim Brewer Poet Narrative

Ghost Morning

GHOST MORNING

this morning i awakened
to your face stirring
in my cup of (strong)
black coffee.

and last night you visited
me and we touched
each other which is something
we had never done.

now, here you are,
in my coffee
and i am afraid
if i drink one sip

i will never be rid of you.

keith, you were powerful
in life, consuming 
our friendship
as though it was something

to eat up and spit out.

until this morning
i had forgotten just how powerful
you were.  but, you always held
the best cards: four aces,

a full house.  a winning hand.

i remember you said you’d make
it back, back, back to me
so when you knocked on the door
this morning i foolishly let you in.

and when you hugged me
i knew i should have kept myself
locked up, hidden away
because your arms held me

so tightly i think you wanted
to be me as much as i wanted
to be you.   keith, i (honestly) wanted you
to leave (me alone), but this morning 

i saw your face in my coffee

and i saw myself (giving in to you again).
you were always so powerful
performing your magic tricks
so easily i had forgotten

it is not wise to play games with you.
this is a ghost morning, keith.
and you and i are still bound up,
tied together by cups of bitter black coffee

and a quick hand of cards.
i sip my steaming coffee, watch your eyes,
as you deal the cards.
i play the hand you deal me.

i know you are not bluffing 
(you never did).
i lay my cards on the table
and fold.  the game is over,

keith.
you win.


Copyrighted
June 24, 2011
Jim Brewer

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