Poem -

The hour of ghosts

The hour of ghosts

It is the hour of ghosts,
Mercury retrograde.

Words meant to be velvet,
come out spiky, raw
to the nerve.

I hurt you,
unintentionally.

Your tears cut through my heart.
I heard you.

I must not speak, but act.

I will own our marriage,
instead of letting it lead me
as I have done for so many years –
you fought so hard
on my behalf
and have earned that right.

Can you let me hold you, now?
Ā 

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