First Haunting

hello #Dverse poets pub here is a rework of an old piece. from 2017, part ghost story part poem.

misty morn


#tiki’s guild, #dverse #openlink, #ghost story

Wow that is how it feels like to die, quite a relief from the pain of living. Who is that over there? They look like as if they could do with a hand to slaughter those pigs. Is that farmer Pickleway over there the artist, the poet and my wife’s ex-lover?

I watched him sitting at the outside table in the fog of an autumn morning. The weak sun was trying to break through as I had fun making swirling patterns in the fog. Then as he devoured the fatty pork patty in a bread roll grease dripping on the table from between his fingers. Remembering why I am here, I dip into his mind and remind him of his father’s fatal heart attack, with a tweak on his heart strings.

Here I sit catching the echoes of the minds in this steamy atmosphere of a coffee shop. There they sit my bigoted quarry. Bitching about and slagging off all those in sight “look at her what a dragon I bet she would tear your head from your shoulders and shit down your neck. Just for saying hello to that ugly daughter of hers.” And “hey bitch you looked like you’ve been struck with an ugly stick. was your mum just as ugly.” I had better get, my grown children out of here before they get lynched. This is my home now. Since I left their mothers dead body for the pigs.

The skull sat there,

Sun bleached,

Cracked Sunglasses,

 hiding a spark,

Not of life,

But of diamond,

Ten years since I left,

 your body in the,

pig pen.

That pig’s skull, now skewered,

Next to yours,

In the clearing on a stick,

The butterflies dancing,

Around you and him in the sun,

Celebrating your sacrifice,

 To the cherry orchard,

Ten years ago, I swapped,

From you hunting me,

to me haunting you,

You hated me when I died,

So now I am you and you are me.

1st ©30/5/17 rog leach

2nd © 29/5/17 rog leach