I have stirred up memories,
loosed ghosts I thought were laid.
I can never leave well enough alone.
I have seen what they can do,
was glad when they were bound and
put away, but can’t stop myself
from peeking in at them, from
poking them to see if they still breathe,
from loosening their ropes where
their wrists are chafed.
I tried to warn you when you left
I was the wrong person to guard them.
You rolled your eyes, you sighed,
you said, “Deal with it.”
You won’t be back.
by Cher Bibler