I wander through a mist
that swirls at my
tingling fingers
and plucks
at the ends of my hair
and pinches
the skin of my cheek.
If I could hold
the hand of a memory
lost,
could I then
tug back
and earn a ghost’s smile?
Or would the mist
laugh and dissolve,
disappearing into the place
where every lost spark
still flickers?
Photo by Chris Lawton on Unsplash
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Published by Rachel Sandell
Rachel Sandell is a writer and editor from Washington State, where rainy days necessitate long books, hot chocolate, and plenty of magic. Though she specializes in speculative fiction and harbors a love for the dark and enchanting, she also dabbles in poetry and is the archive project coordinator for Fireweed: Poetry of Oregon. She is an MFA graduate from the Rainier Writing Workshop, and her short stories have appeared in SORTES magazine, Night Picnic Press, and Leading Edge magazine.
View all posts by Rachel Sandell