you can’t name your own ghost
she lost what lived inside of her
he stumbled home from the war
that would never leave
would become the hands and feet
of his body, his face, his defeat
*
you kept the country
that wanted you dead
in the back of your head
*
it comes out of your name
the way you pronounce it
the way your body commands a room
the way you frighten me to death
*
money, the laurels keeping you alive
sundried, tongue-tied
she’d never call you by your name
and you try to be the man you’ve never been
and she pays a high price
to eviscerate you from her features
and you howl to conjure up the past
to get your hands on something
that has escaped a long time ago
Croque-Melpomene 