Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Nothing Lonelier Than Ghosts

A prostitute in London, 1870 –
accompanied by an assistant
loyal to her as a dog.

She and he just came to me
as if I were a log in which
they might write something

to record that they were here.
I wonder how I know that she’s
a prostitute exactly from that year.

I’ll take my glass of water, raise
a toast to her and her amanuensis.
Nothing lonelier than ghosts.


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