Cooking for a Ghost

my contacts are blurry

sedimented with the salts of tears

cried and un-

the crows scarred your eyes

with the feet

of their raucous gathering

your skin has been kissed by the sun

though you rebuffed

the intimacy of its affections

I stand before the sizzling stove

stewing nurturance

for my lover, never you

while your ghost spins

on the blades

of the ceiling fan that won’t turn off

trailing tenacious tendrils

of ethereal palpable scorn

I can’t stop shivering