The faces behind the trees wither
……………With the radiance of will-o-the-wisps. 
To the uninitiated eye this blood 
……………As thin as moonlight ribbons loss. 
For those who have lost more than life 
……………There are rivers deeper than oceans  
Ascending these hills and hollows.  
……………Bone is a dull bell the winter rings 
Into shapes of haunting, melodies 
……………That compose your specific gravity.  
Returning limb for limb the weight  
……………Of absent children. The pregnant womb 
Emptied by the callous moon. Eyes  
……………Of bloodshot destiny, hands made cradle. 
The flower of youth that will never bloom. 
……………The earth turns away from such use. 
Tell me, am I wrong to pull 
……………The dead into conversation, seeking the name 
She would have carried among  
……………Their number? Did she open my daughter’s 
Heart only to crawl inside and lie 
……………inside her, moss gathering a gentle rain? 
Kneeling now beside a silence multiplied 
……………their eyes closed to heaven, 
I beg the quiet to remember  
……………What stars they might have carried. 

– Zachary Kluckman

Author’s Note: This poem is a part of a cycle that explores the concepts of haunting and being haunted as experiences that often have nothing to do with spirits. Although at times, phantoms may be involved, most of our hauntings originate within, and these poems seek an understanding of that phenomenon.