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Ghost Ship
This electric, magnetized,
body/mind equation of being,
is like a pilotless sailing ship,
that often runs upon the rocks,
to be beached
like any shipwreck
If the spirit of a lost love
should enter that broken vessel,
she will see two glasses,
set upon a tilting table,
while a wine bottle rolls
back and forth on a jumbled deck.
Though rough seas
and razor-teethed shores
have buffeted all else,
both bottle and glasses remain intact.
Consider them symbolic,
of a love Lorn alcoholic.
Stay awhile,
I will write you a love letter,
in a puddle of spilled wine
with my finger.
Yes, it will not last,
but nothing does my love.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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