I see purple ghosts in the corners of your eyes. I see them dance and I watch them disappear; They have their own eyes, fiery golden eyes with bright flecks of orange that do their own dance and that burn and pop and fizzle away when you pull the shades.
Your purple ghosts have cellophane eyes and I know this because when they appear, they’re all I see. They have burning, translucent, cellophane eyes that mimic the wrinkles on our bed sheets. Burning, translucent, cellophane eyes that mimic the spots on the moon, mimic the veins in your arms.
I fell asleep last night wondering about your skin.
A world carved out on each of your hands; valleys and hills and mountainous ridges that create borders between nations. Lava pools just beneath the surface carve out canyons that bubble and swell and splash.
Your arms are home to molten streams that feed the pools of your palms,
But your purple ghosts are all I see.
Sheer, wild, still; a flash of silver gold light in a cave followed by absolute darkness. The glimmering eyes of purple ghosts illuminate this night.
Your purple ghosts are my angels, but I wonder what the owl thinks. I wonder what the little children think of your purple ghosts and I wonder what your mother thinks. I think I’ve always known your ghosts.
I had a dream last night and I woke up.
There you were, just to my left, eyes closed, smiling with your ghosts.
Purple ghosts, like steam, rise from your fingertips; you touch me.
Purple ghosts flicker like the bulb in the hallway we never use, flicker like the lights on the Christmas tree or flames on a birthday cake. I see the flames, like honey, melting into the molten streams, through your arms and down into the pools of your palms.
You have purple ghosts in the corners of your eyes.
I see them dance and I watch them disappear.
Todays poetry contest entry was written by Katherine Holly.
Do you think it could possibly be one of the best new poems of 2014?