Don’t Look Now: Reading Aloud to Ghosts

By Thomas G. Palaima, University of Texas

 

“You ever seen a ghost? No
But you have heard of them.”

 

The blind side, they say,

is what hits you by surprise.

 

It can drive you

to your knees,

tap your shoulder,

caress you gently.

 

The sudden smell

of smoke

upon the air.

 

Milk

poured on cereal.

 

Water

on the soil

in a flower pot.

 

Cream

poured on coffee

in your coffee cup.

 

A place of one’s own,

they say, too.

 

How was that

on the blind side?

And when?

And just that?

 

Sometimes the blind side

is a mirror.

 

Or conjures up a phrase

from Bob Dylan.

 

“You give something up

for everything you gain.”

 

Sometimes the blind side

is not there.

 

Never was.

 

How can you take

precautions against

what never was?

 

“So pay for your ticket

and don’t complain.”

 

A ticket delivered

from the blind side

can have exorbitant

handling fees.

 

It can admit you

to the blind side

in the mirror.

 

To see the father

fallen short.

 

The lover

confused

by love.

 

The person

placing belief in

what is

no more.

 

And maybe

never was.

 

In others.

 

In oneself.

 

A deep breath

is calming, they say.

 

It takes

the blind side

into the spirit

inside.

 

Like light tendrils

of cream

spreading through

strong hot coffee.

 

Like water

disappearing

in darkening

soil.

 

Like milk

that makes cereal

float

or sink.

 

Like the caress

that had

no meaning.

 

The touch

that called

attention

to nothing

apparent.

 

The force

of a

sledge hammer

upon

a

spike.

 

A whispering

scent

of

smoke.

 

What’s that?

 

Don’t look.

 

But you

already

have.

 

And you’re

“left looking

just like

a ghost.”