New Ghost is that what you are
Standing on the stairs of water
What do you see, gliding on waves,
hollowed out in bone and blood?
Where have you scattered your flesh?
On the long road down, you sang and we all
came, in spite of your drugs and spiky hair.
We came dragging our shadows over
the gravel that made them bleed.
Your voice bound us in wire, tore at our ears.
We struggled hard not to eat your words.
We became fish and ice and salt dissolved
in plasma of the sea. Then we became birds
and flew at you with our murderous beaks.
Yet someone has failed to see you off,
neglected to seal your vault with steel bands
and a proper lock. Even so, you are torn apart,
but singing still on this blue morning at the end of the world.