They watch, I’m sure of it—outside
this window and others—they see
our plenty, our too much and try
to warn us of great reversals to come
when we are the wraiths wandering
and pressing noses to the glass
and eating only with our eyes.
This is the reincarnation
of nations and spirit. I’ll say
no more, but open up the door.
Sh-shh. If only they’d enter
in any form. As birds and cats.
As strays, alive and dead.
Come in and feast on wine and bread.
Written for Sumana's
Copyright © 2016 Susan L. Chast