ghostfarts

There be some ghostfarts roaming under the couch

meetings held in closet corners

and just behind the bathroom door

in the one spot the broom can never reach.

There be some ghostfarts still huddling under the altar

whirling behind the headboard of my bed

and humming warm just under the fridge.

Been trying to scare them ghostfarts out with roar of a vacuum

or flat blade of lola’s walis tambo

but they just keep floating through…

they whisper names of nights taken

and the takers of these nights

they form shapes of nightmare interludes,

the kind that keep us going reminding us we can wake up.

.

but i don’t want anymore ghostfarts in this box

but maybe the only way to be fart free

is to cut the corners off

round out the house

make tipi.

let go the fridge, the bed, the couch and tables,

no more underneath if there’s nothing there cover.

baggage must be checked cuz we don’t have much space in these speedy-up times

our pod travels lite-ning-quick to reach more hearts for wake-up call…

so wake up wake up wake up we miss you! cries goddess

from waters deep in our bowl

word travels fast, but heartbeats faster

and

i

love

you

.

i

bless

and

release

you

.

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