ive kept my word you two

grow your own ghosts

there’s rich soil here.

we sowed the field two years back.

not hard work, but plantings not a job for one.


i grew my ghosts here.

a hearty crop.

strong roots.

they sprouted one night,

as i sat stock-still

and waited.


soft-tilled earth turning up new fruit

my specter sea under a crescent moon

the stars in silent rotation.


i hoped you’d come to harvest.

reap rewards of labor.

it’s your crop, too.


i’ve kept them safe,

for if you make your way back through.

the roots reach down

grew below my fields

behind my teeth.

between my lungs.


it made for a beautiful spring.