the table spans the entire graveyard,

and the folding chairs seat guests

of woodsmoke and monoxide poisoning.

it’s an evening of promises to catch up 

and empty plates of sweet words flavored gray

(a ghost’s favorite food).

---

there are too many snipped threads to weave 

a gathering.  blocked and ignored 

calls gnawed through the telephone wires

like rocks through windows. the party is

winding down before it even starts

(as ghosts don’t make good conversation).

---

the courses are catered like flowers 

at a funeral.  afterthoughts in the 

aching.  the guests are long gone

stars.  nothing but dead light attends.

the host is still here, chained to their chair

(enjoying dinner with haunted constellations).