Stanzas: Monthly Chapbooks August 2015 (Collaboration) | Page 18

The Ghost
Emer Hayes
Sitting on the cold stone floor
with your worth in that empty cup.
Growing old with a damp newspaper
That is long out of date.
A skinny dog sitting in your lap.
Pedestrians trotting by,
Blinded by their lives.
Egos expanding with their screens.
Or else they stop.
Rooting for dirty coppers,
Doing their good deed for the day.
But who are you, this man?
A mothers son?
The remnants of a dream
That didn’t quite come true?
The phantom limb of our time.
I see all this within your eyes
While searching for coppers too.

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