Ghost (an excerpt from the poem by Norman Dubie)

If a man stands by a pin oak emptying
A thermos onto the ground and it is cold
In the light, and the light itself
Has condensed
Inside his bones, would you walk up to him
And say, “I went to the clay house. It still
Smells of the hickory, even now in November
I want to know what is going
To happen to everyone?”
The sound of churchbells comes out of
The canebrake.
The insides of three birds are smoking
On the ground by his feet.”

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