The Trouble with White

(Continues from Hallucinating Trees)

She sat under a tree with ice-bright hair
shining a warning at me lying there.
I’d tasted her misery when she died
now she was shaking her head at my pride.

We’d come full circle in an afterlife
rife with mystery and devilish strife.

“What job am I supposed to be doing?” I stood up.

Being a ghost, I had nothing to dust off. Dust and dirt require a physical body to cling to, and I had none. I had no home either so there was nowhere for me to go and have a good think about what to do next. I needed to reach New Jersey, but the Hudson River refused to let me cross. Maybe there was a river deity I could appease. The idea had merit. I had no idea how to soothe the ruffled waters of a nature spirit, but I had plenty of time to find out.

She fixed a topaz eye on me again. “You know what you’re supposed to do. Quit screwing around and go do it.”

Miss Attitude vanished, and her tree winked out too leaving me alone in the tunnel again. She’d taken her light with her, so I stood in Stygian gloom for two minutes until a headlight flared in the distance. Another train headed for me. Should I repeat the agony or step aside and let it barrel on without me?

Find the earlier parts of this series here.

For OctPoWRiMo, 31 poems in 31 days–all part of one story. Watch me do it.


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