Claire Kroening
Dancing Ghosts
The dead talk back
without warning or mourn—
they carry me home
in the wake of velvet groves.
Dancing on the ivory,
my father's number echoes
on the graves no longer known;
with grace, wisps like open-flames.
In the wake of rosary-swells,
they carry my name
without warning or mourn—
the dead call back.
Steeped in Lavender
My bones are steeped in lavender,
an etching few dare to see.
They wrap my hands in banana leaves
praying for the coldness
weaving through the doorsteps
to abscond before my feet.
My grave is a harbour,
incense stemming aching-trees,
and when bygones are bygones
the Kami carry me out to sea.
Lanterns drift amongst
rice-paper skies—
a rhapsody for the departed,
an etching few dare to see.
My bones are steeped in lavender,
dressed for the objective gaze;
how long can my soul reside
before mildew peels its husk clean?
Claire Kroening is an award-winning writer, freelance editor, translator, and creative residing along the great lakes. Nominated for the Best of the Net, as well as recognized by the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards, their work appears in a plethora of international literary publications including University of Baltimore's Plork Press, Sunday Mornings at the River, The Greyhound Journal, The Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets, and elsewhere. When not working on their upcoming chapbooks, they appreciate visiting art museums and exploring the coastlines. Connect with them on Instagram @clairerosek.