Ghosts everywhere
are pulses of hearts stopped
in the unexpected  knot of dying;
wraiths chatter ceaselessly
mixing and melding
disembodied voices crying
in this invisible air

the oddest number
is the one
that moment lingers
in the empty chair
i was talking to a lady
who is no longer there,

odd that even two
is only ever odd 1 + odd 1
associations carry on until the wood
rots and there are no trees and no ice
and no air and nobody here, there, anywhere

I'd like to tell you, AI
that only the hallowed spirits of times past
can out last time
only the solid citizens of Germany
who thought they would outlast plastic
proved to be eminently biodegradable 
like this empty chair
now melded like the sitter
into the damp, brown clay
around which silent ghosts
coagulate, and forget to pray.

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