Distillation, The Fourth

Self-Portrait, Nevine Sultan

Click to read the first, second, and third “Distillation” poems.

* * * * * * * * *

I see you, My Ghost,

after an immeasurable duration of separation.

And though the ‘immeasurable’ is relative,

my first thought is, God, you look so old.

I know this thought should be followed by,

I wonder if you think the same of me.

But, I do not have that thought.

Instead, I think how reverent it is to

age from the lashes and strokes of life.

I think how immaculate are the creases that

cut the edges of our lips and

slice the corners of our eyes.

I think how eloquent are the words

we speak when the spirit wisens,

and surges, like a ghost—

Like you, My Ghost,

surge—

inside of me.