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edward palmquist

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phantoms

2008

The sound stirs me
and draws me to the window.
I pull open the curtains
and gaze out curiously
into the night.
Amidst the shadows,
her flesh stands out pale
in the moonlight.
Dressed in a white satin gown
she is standing beside the
old apple tree which had proved
so excellent for climbing
in my youth.
She is not a figure that
strikes me as familiar
and I am somewhat
at a loss regarding her presence.
As my eyes adjust to the dark,
she beckons me to come to her.
Quickly buttoning up my shirt
I head out to meet her.
Yet, as I get closer to the tree
I find that she is nowhere in sight.
A brisk wind picks up
and there I am groggy and barefoot
the grass moist between my toes.
Sighing in disappointment
I head back inside and get back in bed.
As I close my eyes the sound returns:
Laughter.
Ignoring it now
I drift back to sleep.
At least in dreams,
phantoms are more approachable.

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