The Ghost's Tale

 

Don't worry, she said

It's not blonde down there

But she is wrong

It's just as blonde down there

As anywhere

 

The light down along her arms

For instance

The down along her cheek

On the back of her neck

Her thighs

 

Apparently I am nothing but

Whispers, air

The hairs barely stir

When what's left

Brushes past

 

Apparently I am nothing

But whispers and air

Anymore

Maybe a faint

Blonde hair on her arm