I slog through decades of decay and Alabama soil soft as a fresh grave
to reach the country house where I once fought my brother, Geoffrey,
for a King Vitaman magic set worth 35 cents and four box tops.
He refused to share the magic with me, and in frustration,
I threw a pencil which hit him, point first, in the eye.
Ghosts rustle curtains, peer through the kudzu covered windows,
and forgive me for breaking this wall,
but these ghosts are no poetic device.
The house was, and still is, haunted.
Some nights, ghosts bumped about like curious raccoons.
They opened drawers. Shuffled down hallways.
Never frightening, just silent spectres,
but this is not a poem about ghosts.
Like any good storyteller, the house settles with a groan
as the sins of my past loop through my mind like the reel
of a Super 8 home movie. I feel badly for the pencil mark
which still exclaims my guilt in Geoffrey’s eye.
I remember leaping from behind a corner in this creaking house
to frighten my mom, and how she burst into tears.
In 7th grade, I plagiarized a poem about a flying horse from Cricket Magazine,
and my Frost and Hopkins essay for Dr. Mersmann’s class is thirty years overdue.
Damn me for being a playground bully and for killing a hamster by neglect.
I have failed, stolen, lied, cheated, fought unfairly, and drunk away so much of my life.
To those I hurt, harmed, neglected, and/or misused,
please, know I am sorry,
but this is not a poem about ghosts.
credits
from Miracle Strip,
released August 31, 2022
Music:
Ned Mudd
Banjo Bob's Bolero
Poet, librarian, raconteur; Matt Layne has been poking hornet's nests and looking under rocks since he was knee-high to a peanut peg.
I reckon you oughta check him out.
Poet Douglas Kearney and composer/producer/drummer Val Jeanty link up for a a compelling LP that feels like the written word come to life. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 30, 2021