Robert Campbell: Problems for Ghosts
Every asshole owned a ouija board.
Everyone burned sage. We holed up
in the old boat house. We weren’t
welcome anywhere. Dark machinery
drew us in with its rope and pulley,
guiding us along the docks to rest.
Troubles still followed us like flies.
Men and women with big hair came
to expel us with their angry prayers.
I was forever shouting between walls.
We became various falling sensations.
I’d open my mouth, and things fell in
by accident. Nothing became very
important to us. I don’t know why
we couldn’t sleep. The tied canoes
would bob and rise in the lake water,
floating there beside the slick, warped pier.
Our reflections stared like big black dogs.