Poetry by Alessia Di Cesare
The Glow of Ghosts
The problem is,
ghosts
believe in themselves
enough to find new echoes
in their voice and learn
to love the howl.
Ghosts
think they hide secrets well but
ghosts
get caught in the wind
on the highway of summer insects,
whispering whispering,
as the lights flicker
to match a pulse of the last song
they fell in love with, alive.
No one ever
asks a ghost to dance,
so I am sorry if I threw you off beat
as I passed through (you)
to shut a window in my kitchen.
Is that how you found your way in?
I’ve had dreams of you
learning to lock doors
and filling up on my fright
like it’s its own bar shot and
I’ve had dreams
of you crying
for her
in a field of orange flowers,
glowing and raining
and raining.
I never knew a ghost
could rain. But a ghost
can rain, and dream
and wish, and ache.
I once saw a ghost
kiss the front door of his
old home so desperately,
it sounded like a knock.
I saw another ghost
hold up the sun
to melt the winter
and remind his wife
he wasn’t coming home
at all.
Do ghosts glow brighter in a thought
of something once lost?
If you are reading this,
tomorrow,
I will leave
the window open if
it makes you happy.
I will bring home
California poppies
and leave them at the front.
But please,
let her know you loved her,
and shut the window
before it rains.
The problem is,
ghosts
believe in themselves
enough to find new echoes
in their voice and learn
to love the howl.
Ghosts
think they hide secrets well but
ghosts
get caught in the wind
on the highway of summer insects,
whispering whispering,
as the lights flicker
to match a pulse of the last song
they fell in love with, alive.
No one ever
asks a ghost to dance,
so I am sorry if I threw you off beat
as I passed through (you)
to shut a window in my kitchen.
Is that how you found your way in?
I’ve had dreams of you
learning to lock doors
and filling up on my fright
like it’s its own bar shot and
I’ve had dreams
of you crying
for her
in a field of orange flowers,
glowing and raining
and raining.
I never knew a ghost
could rain. But a ghost
can rain, and dream
and wish, and ache.
I once saw a ghost
kiss the front door of his
old home so desperately,
it sounded like a knock.
I saw another ghost
hold up the sun
to melt the winter
and remind his wife
he wasn’t coming home
at all.
Do ghosts glow brighter in a thought
of something once lost?
If you are reading this,
tomorrow,
I will leave
the window open if
it makes you happy.
I will bring home
California poppies
and leave them at the front.
But please,
let her know you loved her,
and shut the window
before it rains.
|
Alessia Di Cesare is a poet currently based in Ottawa, Canada. Fascinated with the mystical, she is always asking questions about the universe through her treasured decks of tarot cards, and tracking the magical ways of the moon. Her writing is often inspired by witchy women such as Stevie Nicks and Lana Del Rey.
Alessia published her first collection of poetry "How the Heartache Humbled Me" with Bottlecap Press in the summer of 2016. Her work also appears in The Rising Phoenix Review, The Ottawa Arts Review, Persephone’s Daughters and has a forthcoming poem in Witchcraft Magazine. She sometimes shares her poetry on her Instagram account: @alessiajade_ |
