love poem to the ghosts who make me write

by Alison-Christmann-Vener ‘25

there are ghosts in my room

and better still, they follow me.

a door slams without touch;

across a room, an alarm clock winds back

without permission.

i see ghosts

in between blinds   in the flicker between the night     and the dawning

in the mirror   after the spark            when the power goes out

they

move my hand through unseen worlds

smear my life-blood on pages       i forget

i see ghosts.

pure and battered,

they’re raw like snake-noose-dragon-flank-rare    steak eaten by men who thirst for the kill

and salivate for slaughter.

they’re so white-like-glass-snow-white-coffin;      corpses that bleed blue and

go blond to hide from misery and her lover;

moon-frosted terrariums of sins i’ve forgotten and seeds i sow when i shatter.

i see ghosts.

lurking in the shadow just behind me,

peeking through the sighs of everything slowly       shifting downwards.

at night, they pull me out of sleep,       then disappear.

January 27, 2022

by Margaret Witkofsky ‘24

Alone

And innocent

No one to share these burdens with

They don’t understand

The days fade

One after another

But I’m left sitting here

Innocent

And alone