I am in and of myself
in this body
to which I am tending
with all the kindness
of age and repairs,
when I see a ghost,
a ghost who is
at once familiar
and rightly estranged,
yet I feel the
chemical reaction
in my flesh and bones
like the first time,
when this body
and its beating heart
were soft and pliable,
when he could have me
with a glance,
a glance
not unlike this ghost’s
here now
in this long hallway,
a slow motion apparition
that shames me somehow,
shames this
soft sweet body,
its stalwart efforts
and persistent pulse,
so much I hide myself
away in darkness
and weep for the loss —
not of the ghost,
but of the girl
who loved so boldly
and with such resolve
as to forget herself
altogether,
to disregard
conceits and cautions,
fall fast into
phantom arms
without this
weighted gravity
of consequence.
Your donations support our
ongoing creative efforts. Thank you!
Photo by Benni Fish. Poem ©2026 Jen Payne. If you like this poem, you’ll love my book SLEEPING WITH GHOSTS, on sale at my Etsy Shop.
