I’ve never seen a ghost
but it seems reasonable that
like at any busy airport
a few get left behind.
I feel bad for these wispy souls
stomping and smashing
yearning
but unable to pierce whatever curtain
separates us
from them.
When I was little
I used to sit very still
and will them to reach out to me
slam a door
knock over a vase
whisper
but all I ever heard
was the whir of the fridge.
I hear that sound now
an incessant hum
and a part of me wonders
if perhaps that was them whispering
all along.