by Narmadhaa Sivaraja They observe,from the sidelinesbehind human boundariesmutely. Ghosts of past,felled by hunters,now shed skins, peeling,naturally. Wheels pass by,not unlike time,in twos, threes, and sixes—boundless. Fiercely defiant,owners of the land,masked in ashen white—eucalypti. Narmadhaa (or N) writes haiku, free verse, opinion articles, and flash fiction on The Chaos Within. N has a self-published travel haiku collection on Amazon Kindle, Read More
Tag: ghosts
Fish Kill
by Kristin Garth You were aware of mermaids in the sky,fenestrated fins swimming by since youare old enough to be outside alone. Whytheir pallor ash, collective moans imbuesfew fears of what was well known at daybreakseven years old. Magical was mundaneand manifold as silver rain in lakesabandoned by the dead. Mermaiden painschools overhead. Two innocent relatedinheritors of a haunting hate Read More
She Looks Exactly Like a Trap
by Kristin Garth Tendrils to tails, they circumnavigatea naked girl, bloom crowned, against tree trunkstoo late. Mermaiden ghosts tread air irate,retreat to appease queen’s dictates — swim, slunk, away, to wisdom pooled. They theorize,a spectral mermaid school, why would she sitin shivered fright, flesh sodden pink, unwise,unclothed, alone, midnight? It’s counterfeit coincidence — pretense of confidence,a doppelgänger of the dead, Read More
Let Him Know
by Kristin Garth She will not ask you to explain. Evenhalf women comprehend who is to blamefor plots where girls remove their clothes — reasonyou sit, alone, exposed in frigid shame, shuddering chest. She will approach you slowwith only one request — when he would kissthis poisoned neck, taste his death, let him knowthe cause was disrespect — damsels dismissed Read More
An Old Superstition
by Lannie Stabile When I cross a cemetery, I grip my breath like a rosary. I watch the tombstones blur,the iron fence galloping along. I finger the beads of my lungs until my chest pops. I try desperately to exorcise you. But the heart is weak and wispy. I release the imprisoned mistand breathe your ghost in again, as I Read More
Cellophane Ghosts
by Amanda McLeod Dead jellyfish float transparent in the void below my rib cage, invisible echoes of unforgotten pain. Ghostly tentacles, trailing translucent threads of agony against my lungs, my heart, drinking my oxygen, taking up space left for breathing, diaphanous, penetrating. I wrap myself in this cellophane, unseen suffocation, extra gloss doesn’t hide suffering but shows no cause. Amanda Read More