Every friend I’ve lost is still alive
but I’ll hold a séance anyway.
I’ll gather photos and mixtapes, pile them
on a Ouija Board, let black magic
do what phones and Facebook can’t.
I’ll conjure you away from countertops
lined with green beans, turn you translucent,
and say hi. Maybe you’ll love it, a vacation
from despot skin, fascist bones.
Maybe an out-of-body experience is better
than a three-day-weekend.
We can drive to the nearest ghost town,
hit up the bar, or stop at the Dead Letter Office
to look for correspondence we never sent.
We can use algebra and chaos theory
to find which raised eyebrow, which casual quip
split us like an atom and led to lives
with room only for women and children.
And when unshoveled driveways and lovers’
necks call you back to the land
of the living and your aura starts to fade and
you say, “We should do this again sometime,”
I’ll nod, reverse the spell, release
you, so you can roam like a spirit bear
in the Yukon, just a white dot
cresting a distant hill.
Photo: Brooke Shanesy
Linton Lewis is an Ohio University alumni who also received his MFA in Creative Writing at Minnesota State University where he serves as an English instructor. He’s also got this really cool mansion where we have these fly themed parties