ghosts, deception; Prey; two girls buy the world

ghosts, deception

never is such a very
long time.
i saw you again
at the grocery store—somewhere 
between the dried beans and sugar
you had grown young,
a woman
moving backward in time
with the ease of a film reel, spinning silently
through the final winter of ice and stick trees
back to spring,
to the beginning
when the green shoots ached for heaven.
i stopped
by the spices, and quicker than sound
you were gone.

the somber magician of flickering tea lights
has tipped
his hand,
marked cards obvious
as bone on green velvet. how foolish
i felt at the séance.

in dreams you return.
beneath a tangerine sun
on the longest car ride, we talk
and we talk
and i have since forgotten all
but your laughter speeding through light.

The marble is slow to roll
and for the hare,
simple prey,
the only thing to do is wait
beneath the curved blue sky of the snow globe:
the sunlight captured
in a field of merry green
and painted hills beyond reach,
as though a rabbit had any need
for art.
two girls buy the world

in a sherbet world, to spin
at the freewheeling edge
of the paper cut
hands with a forbidden girl—
there is so much
in this bright space, so
many sounds
as the celestial spheres
trade stories,
to touch.

(the price is high)

let me remain
as captive or captain, as
as spring at death’s door
with pink blossoms in hand
for the spectre himself.

Photography Credit: Jason Rice

Rose Oston’s background is in English Education and Counseling, so she could happily listen to people talk about their favorite books all day. Her work has been published in North Country Journal.