THE GHOSTS

Immediately finding themselves dead,
above their fallen bodies
the ghosts watch with astonishment and rage
to see the evening through a lens of fire
as friends and lovers in a strange parade
pass not hearing.  Love's own ground
is patient in eternity.  The proof
of love is hidden, but familiar.
It was as fresh as spring, in the old life.
To have no idea of the coming change.
Not long ago, the climate's urgencies
sped them to silence. A sense of hope
is what lingers.  Each counterpart of ghosts
relives serenity, the daily puzzle
of shadow on shadow, smiles unwinding talk
where everything happens, as proof exists.
How could they have know what it was like?
The violence of a ghost disarranging books.