the horses' tails together, again
have rotted the butter in our churns.
Nightly the dogs howl your dissatisfaction.
We have washed your body,
adorned and anointed you.
We have clad you in a new shirt
with a collar not as stiff as your body.
You transfer your agitation to the medium.
Her eyes roll back. Her color is bad.
Ghost, do you miss your acids and lipids?
Did you love other carbon on earth?
You cannot muster a reflection
in the mirror where a beautiful woman
now adjusts her black shawl. She looks familiar.
She will not wait for you as the ferryman waits.
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