Photo by: Sam Lim
Some questions I might ask a passing ghost..
When do you know you’re a ghost?
Is there a cold that touches tips of toes?
When death feels oddly like life,
How do you know?
Is it when you try to bleed,
liquid rust comes out
from a body weakened to death by tears,
Is that how you know?
Do you make friends with smoke and mist?
Is there a ceremony on the day of death,
a party to celebrate a life gone
with others that have passed on?
The eyes of people who looked
on you with affection
are now blank.
Is it the realization that you are
as unnoticed in this world
as the air?
When, oh when,
my dear departed friend
do you know you’re a ghost?