poetry by Ruby Izatt
I barter with the ghost woman like sprinklers run across an endless suburban lawn. She moved out when I bled and flipped me off from the back of a cab. I tried to return her breasts since our public dispute. I offered silence to ruminate in together. I made her a paper lantern of memory hung by our once heavy ponytail. She comes out of mouth every so often to beg for our lives back. She cuts my nails short and paints them dark blue. She wrings water from our hair. She runs off with our lidded eyes and dresses us in her clothes. She wants to go out again. She swirls her fingers across our hopeless body. We share a pocket and she dances our soft arms through the air. She pulls us down the road like a well fed and celebrated show pony. I lurch to the rhythm of her walk. She admires the weight of the medals around our winning neck. She thanks me for being the perfect model home. She leaves before I reach the front door.