One morning the spirit of my lover’s uncle returned 
there was no fanfare no terror only a blue silhouette 

translucent above our bed growing dim 
I was the sole witness to this specter quiet 

as the rising sun waking overhead I awakened 
cold to see an Aegean blue figure hovering bedside 

through his gaze and mustachioed grin 
on the other side of his face a dazzling tremolo 

of morning light streamed into this darkened space
and later that evening as we moved 

through the neighborhood streets dead with aging trees 
frozen sidewalks led us freely into the moonlight ahead

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Restless Ghost

The wasp's paper nest hung all winter.
Sun, angled in low and oblique,
Backlit—with cold fever—the dull lantern.

Emptied, the dangled nest drew him:
Gray. Translucent. At times an heirloom
Of glare, paper white as burning ash.

Neither destination nor charm, the nest
Possessed a gravity, lured him, nonetheless,
And he returned to behold the useless globe

Eclipse, wane and wax. He returned,
A restless ghost in a house the wind owns,
And the wind went right through him.