"poltergeist or the duende's gift" by Geoffrey Philp

if only sleep or a good night's rest could absolve
my many betrayals: retreating when i should have stepped
forward, retiring when i should have charged ahead;
for the ghosts keep tumbling into bed with me, they grow
arms and legs, and poke and kick and jab all through the night,
and i'm left standing naked in the bathroom mirror, battered
and bruised in the sunlight, wondering, how did it come to this?
why have i allowed this to go on for so long? and when i leave,
they pluck the springs in the mattress, rip the pillowcases
with their teeth, scatter strands of hair on the night table,
bump photographs of happier times until they hang
lopsidedly on the walls, their edges bent or broken,
the glass stained with soot; then they rearrange
the furniture, so the troubles i come home to look different,
but are the same tussled sheets and torn comforters.
i never sleep in the same bed twice.

From xango music (Peepal Tree Press)


clarabella said…
Geoff: I like this poem. Makes me think of my life. Give thanks for it. Peace and plenty. pam
FSJL said…
You've got to sleep with a better class of ghost, Geoff!

Excellent poem.
I am now a duppy conqueror!
taemo said…
Nice post. A poem just like real. Good job.
clarabella said…
Geoff: Don't know bout de duppy conqueror bit, but it's really a very fine poem. As for the class of ghost with whom you sleep, you may be many things (battered, bruised, confused) with this lot, but I don't think you'd be bored. 1luv. pam
Pam, you don't know how hard I'm laughing right now.


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