Bowl of Light - The Argotist Online

there is always time to start a ghost
For joy as a song, built
thunderous histories
and swollen ankles hidden between
the pews above the cracks to hell
small children always
have something, like cats watching corners;
psychic parrots lamenting her passage
from a world of inchbugs and barrettes
to broken sock string
across your sleeping wrist
when we are
born we
begin to
sleep
the prayers on our lips no longer
concern the flesh
or plate
but sunrise
starting the ghost
smells like strawberry
linen.