GHOSTS, MY CHILD and I

where time has gone,

and who's to say

that all these good byes

haven't taken a toll

on me,

at least a little.

it's not what i expected.

they vent and simmer,

sullen rages

at the end,

knowing full well

they've already taken

the lion's share,

but one cannot serve

both God

and money.

downtown,

we are both ghosts,

my child and i,

she in her

oxygen helmet,

me in my splints

and Ace bandages,

our hands wrapped

similar,

we were bound

in the pain of

breathing and being.

so many good byes...

and should i weep?

bridges burned

from both sides,

no arson squad

to assess blame,

no need to cross

this stream again,

destiny always lay

ahead.

i don't know now

who i'll

become...

will love solidity

and grow?

will i find solace

in the words

of the next poem,

the next book?

will i fold up

and fly away,

reincarnation

before i succumb

to final breath,

a spoor born

on a child's breath,

blowing dandelion seeds,

each hoping to

become the Santa of

imagination?

i only know

it's been so long,

and even if

it's not quite over,

gratitude has

built this house,

and i will dwell there

with my memories

and time

until both

fade

for good.