I have an old photo that hangs on my wall now
In a cast iron frame with bubble glass
It used to hang at my grandparents house
On the wall above my pappy’s bed
Too creepy to be kept in a common room

It is a faded, ghostly image of my great-great-aunts
The aunts of my  great-grandfather
Wearing strange hats, the background faded
They are a bit faded too, staring off at nothing
Strange looking yet so familiar

I brought them home with me after my mammy died
And they spent years tucked away at my aunts
Hidden in a room upstairs, away from people
As though they were something to fear
Until I claimed them as mine

I saged them and hung them up quite proudly
Thinking of childhood stories from my pappy
About how when he was young the frame
Would vibrate on the wall, shaking violently
He swore it was true, of course

Perhaps it was, but they don’t move for me
They only watch, and it’s a comfort
For they are haunting, yes, but also
They are mine; my people; my blood
My spectral ancestors