The Leftovers

Come empty ghosts and ruin me
Devour my substance
Gnaw my bones
Suck my juices
And spit out the pip

Leave it to dry.
Cold, hard & swept into a tight corner
With the dust, dead flies, dried peas
and other crumbs.

But rememebr blue ghosts
What a tough nut can hide.

A small green seed, I think.

© Gaylene Barnes, 1995