Monday night, up late,
and I cannot quite find
the poem in me.

It was just there—
somewhere around a corner
in my mind,
haunting me.

I must call forth this apparition.
It is an exorcism I seek.

Will you stay?
Will you believe in me
and my ghosts?

I don’t—
not literally—but
the more I search,
the less I’m free.

The ghost
is me.