Ghost Exit of a Carpenter
Ghost exit. In fog, in cold dew on long grass.
Like the tide they are present.
Listen for their absence. Their move moves.
Once, I saw in a split second vision, as clear as looking
through a window, or at an image on a screen,
the fair and blue dungarees of a carpenter
coming home from work, his red shirt
and happy chapped face
visible to me for a scene.
Then absence, void image, only a gut knowledge
of the world beyond the scrim.
Keep singing
and if we meet and I am no more
I shall join you
with my diminished voice.
The sawgrass beaded with dew
reflects back thousands of prism worlds,
colors and light bending in a circle,
a blue jay alights a pine branch,
tucks his blueberry blue under wing
and is gone.
by Stephen Scott Whitaker - Stephen Scott Whitaker is a member of National Book Critics Circle, and the literary review editor for The Broadkill Review. All My Rowdy Friends was published in 2016 by Punks Write Poems Press, LLC; his previous chapbooks include the steampunk inspired The Black Narrows, the award winning Field Recordings, and The Barleyhouse Letters.