Ghost (Poem)

Mrs Chen never believed in ghosts even though
she worked as a fortune teller
She never cared about the things she told others
and nothing bizarre had ever occurred in her life
The sun rose from the east of her tiny village every morning
while she fed the pigs and cleaned the yard
before making breakfast for two
She had learned to be independent
And of course, she enjoyed those occasional consultations
when she could earn free cash just by making up stories
stories of omens, love, and sometimes betrayal
stories she would laugh at
She had faked so many stories, and sometimes
she wondered whether she could publish an anthology
She was good at it
She was so good at it that she was afraid of it
Mrs Chen lived in peace until
she saw a ghost last spring
a giant one, half transparent,
with a lengthy genital circling her bedroom
claiming copyright of her story
and ownership of her husband
Mrs Chen greeted the ghost as an old friend
This was the price she had to pay after
making up so many stories
She hugged the ghost
that’s how she named her solitude

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