Ghost Reader from berserkerpoetry by Steve Skafte

she is a ghost reader
in the darkness of my mind
where forest pines
meet broken lines
she is a chain-dragging spectre
she doesn't haunt my dreams
but she watches my eyes
she hears my ears
and fears my fears
no one is naked
when she is around
they are clothed in glass, darkly
beneath a wall of sound
they are written on paper
before sleep arrives
on the backs of bills
and unfinished wills
perfect truths with a P.S. of lies

she is a ghost reader
the mystery suspect
the unseen guest
the reel, the bait, the leader
she is inbetween scenes
crumpled characters
of frustrated writers
she is inbetween dreams
the waking life
of days and nights
the greying shades
of darks and lights
the push and pull
when hearts are full
and she reads my palms
as I read her soles

she is a ghost reader
in my eyes and over my shoulders
bread from a bird
and blood from a boulder
and with my fading faith in fake flowers
I'm counting the hours
counting the days
until crime pays me back
for drowning my hate in the summer showers
until I hold my fate fast
and grasp my destiny nearer
I'll be sowing words
like a summer seeder
but I'll never hear them when they land
I am a ghost writer
she is a ghost reader

• Folk
• poetry
• spoken word
• spoken word poetry
• Bridgetown