Specters
You looked at me
the way a glassy lake
considers a funnel cloud
and I knew then
that all the ghosts
I thought I’d shed
were still there
and that I
had become
the haunted house
3 thoughts on "Specters"
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Yes. Me too.
This makes 3 or more of your poems I like. End it with “and that I was haunted again.” Rather than as it is.