hark!

a ghost
by Ehlayna Napolitano

when she opens the door, i am there

a velvet crush wrapped around breakable glass.
she is a gust of wind through a window,
a friendly tug of the sleeve to send you sprawling
and i am so.

it tumbles out: her name, the day of the week, half-forgotten

mimicry of days that passed without note
and resurrect themselves in my mouth.

i am bare on her doorstep and my teeth are bloody

from the cut of humility.
where have you been? and i am there.