Ghosts become more like
the walls
they pass through.
Avoiding doors
like goodbyes. Their disembodied hands hold-
ing onto weightless
hope. Maybe someday
they’ll go through
something
to turn their haunt
back into a home. Today,
they are a cold spot. A shiver
down
my spine. A reminder of what
little soul is left in this place.
Michael Brookbank is a writer from Kentucky, just across the river from Cincinnati, OH. His work has been published in Sugared Water and Loch Norse Magazine. When not writing, he likes to rock out around the house with his toddler.
photo by Olenka Kotyk and Philipp Berndt (via unsplash)
Crow & Cross Keys 