No. 3

Fall 2002

They are the black
and white souls
of the dead --
did you think
that souls
were colorless,
the transparent
and diaphanous cloth
that drapes
the movie phantoms?
When they hug
the long drive
that leads
to your habitation,
know they have
something
other than mortal
to tell you: theirs
will be a notion
that cannot be put
into words.
That huddling
and posturing
they do -- the flared
eye, the head
held steady as stone --
it is for you.
That haunted hovering
over the black skin
of the earth --
for you.

Copyright 2002, Charles Fishman

nidus is an online publication supported by the Writing Program at the University of Pittsburgh's English Department.