what was it you
wanted us to
say after you died
it’s awful without you making sound exist
you said ponder this
but none of us can remember
what now dear please speak up
when quaking became zeal to open
nothing now but a
medieval barking gargoyle
whoever gave you the tambourine shall
be sheriff of my tender zoo
I am not here
I am in the future
where I have always been
please hurry back and forth to
kiss me my ghost
Copyright © 2014 by CAConrad. Used with permission of the author.