The Ghost by Jonel Abellanosa

In our old apartment, skull
in the chipped paint. Sucking
my thumb, I’d stare at the wall
for hours. Pushing the pillow

I called wawi against my nose.
I hid my barefoot fear, marble
floor feeling cold, never telling
papa or grandma. The wraith

never appeared, but I knew.
Not all children go through
but I was chosen. I’ve been
feeling for decades. After my

dalmatian died his apparition
stayed. I drowned in spirits,
drinking till the moon showed,
stroking his shape on my bed.

Jonel Abellanosa’s latest poetry collections are, “Songs from My Mind’s Tree” and “Multiverse” (Clare Songbirds Publishing House), “50 Acrostic Poems” Cyberwit (India), and “In the Donald’s Time” (Poetic Justice Books and Art). “Pan’s Saxophone,” is forthcoming from Weasel Press.