Sara Martinez

Hello ghost,

the one that lives

somewhere near my house,

the one that likes

to slam my door— Bam!

And I jump, but I was expecting you—

You flow through one open door,

then slam another— Bam!

You rattle the trees,

their shaking, sparkling leaves.

You make noise like beads in a maraca.

I’ve noticed, though you don’t much care,

that your hair is weaved with flowers.

Are you some Ophelia?

Or is this habit new?

I’ve seen you, ghost,

dancing in the rain—

twirling with incoming drops—

swirling as though you were laughing.

Haha ghost! How I’ve

come to love you,

the way you leave petals at my door,

that I track in on my shoes.

Oh ghost, I jump

around outside hoping

to hold hands with you.