Play summoner
with brass horn, with
steel string and pickup

Make dark the room
while ghosts come
through, while soul simmers

Locks on windows and
the clock set fast so
it’s on time when it
moves again

Things are too short to settle for.
Things are too long to settle, too.

Ghosts come through and
quiet, for to not disturb
the summoner played

Time is arbitration
timing, arbitrary

There’s fire in all of it,
though,
sprouting from the devil-box
and bursting from the big
brass bell

And it would bring you to tears
while the ghosts come through,
and now you’ve lost yourself,

and that’s just fine, because
here we are again.