The Body of a Ghost

I could see her 

Through the gown —

Tiny round holes 

Revealing her ebony skin.

Her hair flows like the sea.

Try not to upset her —

She goes blue with a stare

So cold, so cold 

That a man’s pulse pauses.

She walks and everyone

Wants her touch.

One would heal if he gets

Too close, for she must be 

Wearing Jesus’s garment.

To know her is to get wet.

A mermaid, they say she is.

Who wants to know her parents

Without getting cold?

By Elijah Christopher

Elijah Christopher
Elijah Christopher is a journalist at A New Touch Of Africa, is also a creative writer, a poet, and an IT enthusiast. He contributed to the collaborative poem written in celebration of Edwin Morgan Centenary, the first Glasgow poet laureate and Scottish national poet from the University of Glasgow. He loves meeting people and learning about new places, cultures, events, and lifestyles.

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