CAROL BORZYSKOWSKI
A Persistent Belief in Ghosts

Anne, you and Sylvia haunt me.
Any minute now I expect
all hell to break loose
from your visitations.
Sylvia made me coffee this morning
bumped the stove with her rump
gave me a wicked wink.
I don't believe in hell.
I do believe in electric stoves.

I'm not that eager to make a mistake.

Listen Anne, can we talk?
Put Sylvia on the extension,
we need a three way connection.
I want to talk to you about vodka
bottle you left on my car seat,
and about the bricks propped
against the gas pedal.
I don't believe in heaven.
I do believe in designated drivers.

Words have layers of meanings
and I'm sick of arguments
over any idea from lunch
to life and death.
I have regrets, have shed my quota of tears;
Karma echoes like an empty room.
Your spirits guard my path.
What we send out is returned.
That I do believe.