Bringing in a Homeless

A ghost
walked through my door,
tagged along
by a tiny,
three-year old
responsibility,
and asked me
nothing,
but heavily implied
and sagged
until I offered
a bed.

A ghost
walked through my door,
heavy, weary,
with echoes of drugs
in my head,
medical or otherwise,
waiting till
I offered food
to announce
that she needed it.

A ghost
walked through my door,
and collapsed first thing
in the chair.
No political politeness,
no reserve
for being in
a stranger’s house,
and at once released
the three year old.

“I haven’t slept for days,”
Hair’s done up.
Clothes are clean.
Likes to sew,
as long as it’s not your sew.
No job,
because…trauma?
What does this ghost
intend for me?

A ghost
walked through my door,
on my own invitation,
weary, sleepy,
no shelter, no food,
a toddler in hand,
so why do I feel
so haunted?
Aren’t I spectral too?