Ghosts
on every corner.
My gut sours
and bile claws its way up my throat.
Still unable to duck their gaze.
'The kid cowering next to a dumpster
begging for mercy.
Hogs and honey
looming over the black women
down on the railroad tracks.
The florist a block south
of your first apartment.
The shredded bed sheet
dangling from my door frame,
and the snow bank that pardoned me.'
'I'm sorry, baby, ' she whispers.
'Don't be. It was my fault.'
She touches my hand. 'I know.'
'I miss you so much, '
I say to an empty passenger seat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem