Love Poem no. 2541

You are the ghost in my home – peripheral vision
undermining the placement of my furniture and
shattering glasses in the hands of other guests.

A cough of air. Words blown into me – soundlessly
you stand at the foot of my bed and push me into
wracking pressures, hallucinatory fits that ratchet

childhood to the fore of my days and somehow
I saw your face in stones, not so far from here and
I saw you walk out the room just before I entered

each time, making me second-guess my senses.

Stay a while.

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About Benjamin Norris

Published writer of short stories, long stories, poems. Well received art critic and cultural commentator for Berlin magazines. Collaborator with operatic societies. Co-writer of fictional historic psycholinguistic journals. Lecturer of architecture and art history at a Budapest University. View all posts by Benjamin Norris

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