A Coffe

By Chiara Bautista

Think

 The Ghosts You Draw on My Back 

The wind plays flute 

Through the cellar door 

And on my window sill 

Plays a sad old song 

I hope tonight 

You will touch my hair 

And draw ghosts on my back 

Walk the shore 

To impossible 

Shout at screaming waves 

Shout at silent rocks 

I think tonight I'll dream of salty tongues

 So tears drips down my leg.