Haunted

They say the plane is lost.

The boss is lost.

I know.

I see him

in the needle of my machine, stitching

in out in out

embroidering pictures of his face

on the pockets of the jeans I sew

walking, staring back

everywhere he’s been.

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One thought on “Haunted

  1. This one haunts me, as do all this month’s poems here. Thank you, Rose!

    They say all are lost
    but I see his face
    and hear his voice
    each time I call
    his cell phone.

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