Ghost Fingers

By Eleanor Keith


She has ghost fingers

    five on each hand

that are silent

and watchful


they glow

         in the night

             while she dreams in bed

                                  and scuttle off 

                                        as the clock rings twelve

                                                       in the silent house


                                      her ghost fingers scurry

                                                     out into the wet lawn

                                                        under the stars

                                                             and the old oak tree


                                                           they tiptoe through the road,

                                               illuminated by streetlights,

                                           hopping over gutters 

                                that get in their way


                         finally, her ghost fingers arrive

                         at the tall brown house,

                         and scurry in

                         through the window


                         not a sound is made

                         but the midnight air shifts

                         as the mistake is corrected


                        her ghost fingers hurry back

                        out onto the dark road

                        running along the pavement

              leaving a trail of fresh scarlet behind them