This Ghost wears fear and crumb-confetti
It's moved by cords
forged from luxurystrings
that nearly lift the Ghost from contact
with earthto drift among the rags of clouds

Gowned in scarlet she places
the orange amid its yellowing
scatters of skin
scabrousdryand whole
out there in the balcony's deepening dark

The whole space blotting blackbut then
so slowly coming clear once more
And cleared of any bodyface
only the sky remaining
only the old land