Monday Poem

The Ghost of the Arrow of Time

An hypothetical-resurrected-formerly-dead
in a daydream arrived with a scent of dread
which I could not put my finger on

yet knew that I knew
the way I know a déjà vu and

came as something I ephemerally knew
came as something ephemerally new

as a bud for instance at the tip of a limb
that once before has never been
but anyway was last spring again

came as a ghost with a cock-sure grin
in a hunter’s cap camouflaged and slim

so thin as to almost disappear
as it turned, the way a tide rolls out and in
almost as if it were never there

as a bow wave breaks in heavy seas
as now breaks over thee & me

to shudder us deeply along our keels
sometimes bringing us to our knees

scouring stains as a burglar steals
to wake-off distantly from our stern

as foam and eddies and whirlpools curl
as flotsam bobs and minutes burn

by Jim Culleny; Sept 2009