I find a woman who knows ghosts.
We talk through those who visit us:
the one who glimmers contentedly in the corner of my office—
a woman, I know, though I don’t know how—
my dad who knocks pictures off walls
but never breaks the glass,
her stepfather who has strong thoughts about disposal of his hats.
What I really want to know is how to find the bridge.
I have some questions for my dead.
I’ve extracted all stories,
I’ve sucked libraries dry,
but I’m still lost down here.
There’s got to be a route to take.
Oh, no–do not send invitations, she tells me.
You never know who else will tag along,
or what kind of garbage they’re carrying.
Promise me you won’t.
I think I’m not lying when I promise,
or maybe that’s a lie. Either way:
Come back, I say into the candle that night,
I’ll take it all, your hangers-on, your trash.
Your garbage is where I’m from.
Tell me my one true form.
Jessica L. Walsh is the author of Book of Gods and Grudges (Glass Lyre, 2022) as well as two previous collections. Her poetry has appeared in RHINO, Lunch Ticket, Crab Creek Review, and more. A nominee for the Pushcart Prize, Best New Poets, and Best of the Net, her work has also been featured on the Best American Poetry website. A native of small-town Michigan, she lives outside of Chicago and teaches at a community college. Her website is jessicalwalsh.com