Poem: "The Cough"
The Cough “the unfriendly ghost trapped in the friendly form” —Erica Jong, “The Deaths of the Goddesses” I don’t hear him until he coughs from my throat, and then I know he is here again. Taking my hands, he pulls apart the hours between rose and dark and scatter them. Getting in front, pushing me aside, he rides my love who cannot tell the difference. He marches me to the cemetery and through the tall iron gates looks for a bird. Unfriendly ghost, unfriendly life, you beat time to my heart but you are not the heart.