“A phenomenon that a number of people have noted while in deep
depression is the sense of being accompanied by a second self . . .”
—William Styron (1925-2006)

I am haunted by hands
like bees and the ungraspable
dusk,

this lattice of turning
shadows and dimming
possibilities,

as if there were a way
to touch this translucent
jellyfish of a world.

I wish I understood more
about the nature of ghosts,
the chiaroscuro of shifting

light hinting at all they once were,
the playfulness of drifting bodies
a claim on all they needed to be.

Maybe then I'd see
the reason I wake at night,
so often confused, afraid

to say what I already know—
we're never where
we think we are.