I Live Among Ghosts…

and they breathe
unnoticed, clocks ticking
in a derelict house.
Shadows of the forest outside
resemble their cold bones, etherised
by long winters
among tall blue pines.

Their skin is mottled and
drawn like a shroud.
Hanging
in my wardrobe or
on hooks behind the door,
they mask the sound of
hopeless sighs with
creased-up layered linen or
the opening and closing
of a paint-swollen drawer.

O I can close my eyes, imagine
that they’re gone.
And when I look in the mirror
there’s nothing to see, except
the back of a strange head
reflected to infinity.

Anne Lawrence Bradshaw comes from the North of England and is a graduate of English Literature. Her work has been recently published in Orbis, Acumen and Artemis (UK literary magazines) and dozens of ezines. She lives a quiet life and treads lightly on the earth. When writing, however, she prefers to delve beneath the surface and seek out hidden anomalies, quiet monsters and the occasionally unexpected.

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One Response to I Live Among Ghosts…

  1. Tiegan says:

    One of the best poems and simultaneously one of the best author bios I have read.

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