Ghosts remove fishhooks from animal bodies
in the desolation outside an empty house.
Somewhere between a fortress & forest
cicadas shed skin & leave exoskeletons
on tree barks. Ghosts gift these bodies
to trees & witness them sing at night
through their circadian rhythm. An echo
unto the glorious dimension of zero gravity.
A trawl toward the sky where unstitched stars
move in collinear stillness. An unsyllabled inertia.
Ghosts shift weather into windless trees
a house echoing an emptiness unto itself
like ocean folding into ocean until it reaches
a shore. Ghosts holy harbours with fragments
of dust & echoes of circadian song. Another
house through the eucalyptus trees fading
into morning mist. Ghosts holding prayers
our mouths say intact, into a remembrance
of empty houses & asphalt interiors. Ghosts
diving into another ocean, another empty house.
image: Nathan Anderson