I don’t see ghosts in trees.
Streams flow without hauntings,
the canopied sky empty of spectres.
But as I walk through quiet boughs
a chill creeps up my spine:
I am not alone.
Behind me I drag ghosts along
chained to each other, chained to me
over streams and under low hanging fruit.
I ask them about everything I see and feel,
“do you remember when...”
the forest exists only through spectral recollection.
-Zero
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