Mourning The Loss Of Ghosts
by Akeith Walters
A summer’s toe-scraped afternoon
trips and falls on urban cement,
raising radiant dust,
dry ripples lifting off gritty sidewalks.
They distort the view
like looking through ghosts.
I search among them for yours
because you loved this city
and I,
who loved you,
don’t know what else to do.
The patchwork pavements
stretch farther away in the heat of the moment.
Already I’ve crossed so many of them,
those spots where others have stood
stained a