ghosty

When she entered thr room,

she silently closed the door

and scanned the perimeter

as if to find something unexpected.

Evidence of possible activity.

On the nightstand,

his portraits were overturned.

He never liked himself on display

and habitually tipped over the frames

whenever they could be seen.

She recently picked up this habit

of setting them upright when she was in the room,

but knocking them down when leaving.

She doesn't remember touching the pictures today.

He comes and goes as he pleases.

Sometimes he stays to sing to her,

others are brief and voilent.

His feet drag when he walks

like heavy chains are cuffed to his ankles.

His soul will never be at peace

because that is just the kind of guy he was.

His body was never recovered

from beneath the ice,

but she is ok with it.

She likes to remember him

folding the linens

or packing his pipe with tobacco

or combing his hair.

Not swollen and stiff

and stuffed inro a cold drawer.

She is glad he still lingers so close.