the 4 stages of possession

Here’s that thing again where I get the sense

that we both believe in ghosts but only one

of us knows why and that you are


easily lost amongst library shelving,

and the scent of books and dust

does nothing for you, except smell

of the past and I am lost again in

the stacks, running my fingers over

spines and here and here and here


are the ones I loved and how much

do you think of yourself as lived in

instead of living? Is it a weight I will

feel lifted from me, like a sword

out of stone and am I the only one

who wondered how the stone felt?
What relief that must have been, a sliver

finally released. And maybe


this is again a difference insurmountable

between us that you talk about the color

of someone’s hair after years of them having run

and I wonder about the other

names for exorcism and discover that they

are also known as releasement.


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