When ghosts sit down to write
it’s almost always in nostalgic search
of that delight of fleshly pleasure
which attends the pressure
dealt by hand-held pen
against a cool blank paper sheet.
We gather their epistolary style
is sharp and sweet,
their cursive writing neat,
their aptitude for wit and quip
one we’d find genuinely risible. Alas,
we’ll never know. The ink’s invisible.