Ghost(ing)

we live in an invisible court, unseen spirits to each other
speak through mirrors, through the lightning calls
of small blue birds
we attend invisible masquerades
(we are wonderful! wonderful!)
gussied up, disguised as our best selfie snapshots
gilt over emptiness

the rushing of our busy wings
our marches, waltzes, blitzes, our patrols
we nod at each other:
good morning! good evening!
at dawn, at noon, at moonlit midnight
each at once, all at once, choreographing
these most amiable
courtesies
nodding warmly, wary
in our separate shy-zones, mind-rift
either an awful politeness, or–
the urgent desire to connect

my back has no skin, flayed open
my back is a channel I keep open
you have turned your face from mine; you say it is gentle
it is not gentle
how have I hurt you? what did I do or not do, say
or not say–and to whom?
what secret crime did I commit–perhaps in ignorance,
perhaps malice–to earn
this grand and glacial silence?
the bird of communication is frozen
blue, the color of compact ice; blue–ice most pure
uncomplicated, airless ice

well,
we sit in judgement of each other
armored in distance, mountains of glass between us
dusty leadlights, slippery and splintering
there are ways to mute these voices, cut cords
I should’ve known were severed stumps already

but I leave my back open
while I front face, face front, front
forward and
gleaming

it is not so bad, or even unfamiliar
to be a ghost