Come on all you ghosts.
Bring me your lucky numbers
that failed you, bring me

your boots made of the skin
of placid animals
who stood for a while in the snow.

Bring me your books
made of blue sky
stitched together with thread

made of the memory
of how warm
even the most terrible

among us has felt
the skin of his or her beloved
in the morning to be.

Matthew Zapruder, section 5 of “Come On All You Ghosts,” from Come On All You Ghosts (Copper Canyon Press, 2010)  (via apoetreflects)
Source: http://evoketheforms.tumblr.com/post/54305...