Gowns and ghosts

Gowns and ghosts

Even though the drawer is closed

I know there is something

Of her

In the cloth

In the weave

Embedded in the creases

When I folded it away.

The tide of life flows

On relentlessly

Old men with bloated bodies

Varicose veins

And blotchy skin

Fingers broken and misshapen

From the coalface

The hot forge.

The breakers' yard

Where so many dreams die

Lost loves stacked

In rusted piles

Forgotten things

Waiting to be remembered

But left to rot.

Graffiti scrawled on toilet walls

The abandoned shelter in a park

Where in days gone by

Innocence was lost

Beer was drunk

Its sour taste

Swallowed for the first time,

Blood was spilled

By the bucketful

When the world became territorial.

There is nothing to stop me

Trepidation is no more than cold feet

I could open the drawer

Look inside

Breathe it in

What can happen?

There are ghosts everywhere,

In the walls

In the air

In the bathroom mirror

The bedside cabinet

The crystal decanter.