Fresh Ghost

You appear now
must know    the bell’s image
is broken     a glass eye
Your lips are white    smeared with memory
I mean mercy
As you talk in a low whisper
I study the bridge in the window
I think of those chalky fronds
pressed in slate fossils
perfumed letters of dying girls
wrapped with lavender ribbon
in a deceitful country
It is good you came,   fruit trees say
through me suddenly
an interruption
a politesse
blossoms on your suit jacket’s
square shoulders

It could have meant so much
had you come had you
meant I could have
much sooner I
had you
I   I   I
I sense
it took a lot to be here

You turns on itself
as an ammonite, I suppose
Nacre and pi:   pure things

You want me to thank you
for your apparition
Let me just give you these fruits
these stones I have been saving
Savor them as I did
My mouth made them round
It is with time,      to be
Then my ghost shall return to you
As the living paper falls    in November
We will be natural      again