Ghostweaving by Laura Stringfellow

In winter,
in the reflection of the window,

she would see herself rise,
would see herself lift,
a faint outline, a haze

that has drawn light
into itself. She would
whisper to the ghost,

spill words into the ether,
pour them like a waterfall.

Spin them until they entered each other.

She spoke chants over the invisible
lungs, over the mouth.
Stirred them with the wind.

They both begin to awaken.

Laura Stringfellow writes both verse and prose poetry and hails from the muggy strangelands of the Southern U.S. Her work has appeared in various literary journals and magazines, including Right Hand Pointing, Déraciné, Neologism Poetry Journal, Ephemeral Elegies, and Coffin Bell: a journal of dark literature.