Presence by John Grey

She’s this presence in your life,

under the bedsheets,

curled up on the couch,

occupying your reflection

in the mirror,

or slicing her finger, dripping blood,

on a kitchen counter-top.

She flickers in the windowpanes.

She steams out of the bathwater.

Every photo in the house

is in her image

or someone very much like her.

She doesn’t speak to you.

In fact,

she’s not even aware of your presence.

She lives alone in this old Victorian.

Your haunting’s just not going over.

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in Nebo, Euphony and Columbia Review with work upcoming in Leading Edge, Poetry East and Midwest Quarterly.