Phantom
I’m in a séance with morning fog
guiding my walk along sandstone
wrapped by vapor that conceals miles
of sediment while ponderosa
assemble and disintegrate
as if forming in a crystal ball
revealing secrets like scrub oak
that briefly confirms itself
with each step I look deeper
summoning a magpie to
hop into view but it dissolves
into boredom expecting
my respect even though
distractions are plenty
as insects this dullness
does not hide its contours
billowing around my head like
a message from the deceased
asking me to forgive the mist.
Corpus Delicti
The season of night is ebony’s snow
dusting rooftops from a charcoal sky
for the pallbearer of dusk to
parade our streets while shadows stalk
their rabbit holes past eyes like mine
scanning the obituary
of daylight as survivors wait
to be seized by the fangs
of slumber persistent as
Nosferatu in a grip of
lethargy terminating
vital signs block by block
embalming our minds with a hush
so rigor mortis can play dead
fooling those who stay awake
conducting their autopsy
on the hours that departed.
Dane Karnick grew up by the Colorado “Rockies” and lives near Seattle. His poetry recently appeared in Hawaii Pacific Review, Pastiche, madswirl and is forthcoming in Alba and Pacifica Review. Visit him at Dane Karnick's Poetry.
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