The Ghost of 409 McQueen | by Caleb Gainey

They placed my body
where the yard ends
under brick and cinder block
three feet from the shed.
Eighty-eight years of decay
and nothing
but a single pillow of moss
decorates my habitat.
My name will vanish,
from paper, stone,
I’ll belong to the earth
slivering into sewer pipes.
They will think it strange:
finding things out of place
keys boxed in closets,
phones thrown into ditches,
glasses under the bed.
Or when I haunt them at night
to give one last kiss
of dread.



Caleb is from the Middle of Nowhere, SC, and enjoys growing avocado plants alongside of his trusty four-legged sidekick. When he has time, he is a children’s librarian. 
Twitter: @Octoleal