Shadow of a Doubt
9.02.06

Early in the morning, long before
dawn’s smudged lipstick kiss
blots the day’s clear beginning,
there is a shadow of a doubt. His name is
Robert, and he lounges in her bedroom’s corner,
just behind sure sight.

A milk thin curl in the coffee of night,
he never seems anchored
to the boundary between truth and lies.
His words are jumbled secrets, codes
meaningless to anyone but her heavy-lidded self.
The swiftly spewed intentions wrap around and pull taut,
echoing implicit. Skeletons push past the closet door
and murmur a symphony of qualms.

Over a decadently concrete lunch
of daylight and colored skies,
she’ll never believe the smoky what-ifs and whys.
But there’s something undeniable
about a ghost unseen.