Ghost Story / Hollow Wind by Jonel Abellanosa

Ghost Story

I remember the man in the black shirt –

My father. The woman sitting by the

Golden candelabra, holding his hand,

Isn’t  my mother. She wears gloom

Like a black veil, staring at roses. 

White orchids and lilies seem invisible

To her. Smells of burnt wax and

Sampaguitas make me dizzy.

They are alone in the chapel, the pews

Brown with absence. The wooden

Lectern’s crucifix draws my gaze, as if

A power is pulling me through the

Glass sliding door. I will myself where

I stand outside, watching them from

Where I feel weightless among leaves,

As if I’m the tree and the tree is me.

I see the folded piece of paper resting

On the coffin, remembering it is

The suicide note I’ve written.

Hollow Wind

The poet sits alone.
He feels the brush on
His cheek as it rises
And murmurs with fronds.
No one else is homeless
This dawn. Only the early
Sun sees the ghosts.

Jonel Abellanosa resides in Cebu City, the Philippines. His fourth chapbook, "Songs from My Mind's Tree" has recently been published by Clare Songbirds Publishing House (New York), which will also publish his full-length collection, "Multiverse." He is a Pushcart Prize, Dwarf Stars and Best of the Net nominee.