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Ghosts of Alex

Thursday 07/10/2008 12:02 AM

After Chauncey died
I thought I saw him too:
Asleep in the living room;
Standing over me, next to the bed.

You would have thought me mad,
Stroking my hands through the air,
Saying goodbye.

Now you've left me,
And there are resonances of you
All about.
Moments, movements, mutterings,
Glimmering like ghosts
When the light shifts through the house.

And I am haunted by all those little
Unselfconscious things you said
That I never got around to recording.

Your “Uncle Peter!”
Your “What are you doing?”
Your abrupt, staccato, timid, “Bye!”

Years from now, as an old man,
I will be desperate to hear once again
Those inflections
Of your glorious, awkward youth.

File Under: Alex; Chauncey; Poetry
Music: Liam Finn "I'll Be Lightning"

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