Thursday, October 24, 2013

Day 16 of Halloween: A Ghostly Poem by Me

Resurrection Mary

This is the kind of night
When at the bat of an eyelash,
Millisecond of flesh folding,
snow begins to fall softly.

The Chicagoan winter
Pushes folks, headlong and eager,
To Liberty Grove and Hall,
Men singing with their French Horns,
Women in their 30’s attire
Swish their skirts, moths swimming in a circle.

Shy in virgin white, Mary dances,
Cold hands, caught between the limbo
Of life force and catalyst of the closed coffin.
The shuffling of excited feet push time
Forward, catacomb of yesterday’s chance.

Music winds the hours into midnight
And Jerry leaves, leading her by the hand.
Longingly he folds the night, places
It into his pocket like a graduation program,
A relic in remembrance of his blistered soles
As he offers the young girl a ride home.

Snowflakes fall against the windshield
Like wet feathers, surrealism in the making.
Headlights slowly chase the highway,
Squirrel demise of the center lane.
“Stop,” she says, sitting up straight.
“Resurrection Road.”
Flowing silhouette of blond, she fades
Beyond the sleeping stones of the cemetery.
               -Stacy Lynn Mar

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