The Ghost by Philip Quinn

The Ghost

 

by Philip Quinn

 

Street

The Ghost

I’d beg for a cup of coffee, a stale bun. The
merchants chased me from their doorsteps. I made
note of their thick accents.

 

I thought after the last war, I would make my way
as a painter. But my art fed me nothing.

 

Now I listen for the guns. Each day their thunder
comes closer. A dog when it is fed cyanide
straightens its legs out.  Marriage — the last
desperate hope. I owed her that at least.

 

I always said my prayers like a good boy. Did the
honourable duty towards those that expected it.
Some had to die before me of course. Even the young
children.

 

Do you know what it is like to hear your name
shouted out and to feel the love of thousands?
Occasionally I lifted my hand and smiled.UG

 
PhilipQuinnPhilip Quinn lives in Toronto and online at www.philipquinn.ca.

Published Books:

Dis Location, Stories After the Flood (Gutter Press 2000)

The Double, a novel. (Gutter Press 2003)

The SubWay (BookThug 2008)

The Skeleton Dance, a novel (Anvil Press 2009)

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