Poetry: Angel Light by Jennifer Patino

Angel Light

My grandmother's ghost
illuminates my angel touch lamp
& I know I'll never stop writing
about ghosts for as long
as I'm not one, for as long
as life says I can

Even then, someone will
write automatically
one day
& it will be me, beyond
the beyond, & a thought of me
might make something
fall from an earth bound wall

As I write this
the world is tumbling down,
literally, a map tacked to my wall
slowly wilts to the ground,
& I think of Poltergeist,
but only the movie, for I'm sure
this minor, jarring catastrophe
is no angry paranormal entity,
but indeed humidity,
for this summer, like all others,
is sweltering

& maybe, I've accidentally
performed a conjuring
by playing my grandmother's music
too loudly to drown out
the spirits of memory
plaguing me,

& maybe this is
the light's way
of purging me
from all the darkness
put on me,
& any mortal calamity
is only instilled paranoia from the TV

People are scarier than those
not living, the undead aid the most
in reliving, & no one is giving
up, commending, ascending,

& no unexplained phenomena can scare me quite like
a week long binge of insomnia,
when all my ghosts & demons appear
& everything blends
into all that I fear

I've doused this low bulb
with my mind, all spectres
return to the shadows,
their prophetic presence
& steely secrets, deep inside me
where no one can find

Bio: Jennifer Patino is an Ojibwe poet from Detroit, Michigan currently residing in Las Vegas, Nevada. She lives for books and film. She has had work featured in Door is A Jar, Punk Noir Magazine, The Chamber Magazine, Free Verse Revolution Lit, and elsewhere. She blogs at www.thistlethoughts.com.