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Summer-Fall '23

Last Will
Dana Knott

I found your ghost
between the lines of a poem.

I boxed up all of your books,
mudged the rooms with sage.

Your lonely presence haunts me
still. I gathered your words.

I cannot strike the final match.


I read the tiny minds of sparrows.
I am fluent in birdsong. I predict
storm clouds from bone aches.

I channel ghosts in daydreams.
They are so pathetic and sad.
I breathe in their sorrow. I float

in vapors of déjà-vu. My thoughts
often come true. I think of him. He calls.
Does he hear my internal monologue?

My inner voice is never silent.
It narrates every mundane moment.
I relive the past again and again.

I confuse memories for the future.

Dana Knott (she/her) has recent publications in Dust Poetry Magazine, Eunoia Review, and Musing Publications. She enjoys the company of her favorite two humans and three cats. Dana works as a library director in Ohio and is the editor of tiny wren lit, which publishes micro-poetry. Find her on Twitter @dana_a_knott.

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