There are Ghosts

I believe this.
They visit my poems.
There’s my mother
right now, kneeling before
my iris patch, mumbling
about how weedy it’s
gotten on my watch.
“Imagine,” she says, “if
all these weeds were gone,
how much the plants
could spread.” She even
brought her rubber kneeling
pad—crumbling, red—
               that’s something
considering how long she’s
been in the congregation
of the dead—
she’s light years
and galaxies away.
“I’m grateful for your help,”
I say. “At least
I’m growing irises. “They’re
in your honor.”
“I know,” she says.
                              “This I know.”

Karen Loeb was Eau Claire, Wisconsin writer-in-residence 2018-2020. Her writing has appeared recently in Switch anthology, Big City Lit, Foreign Literary Journal, Sangam Literary Magazine, and Muddy River Poetry Review. Her poem about Pluto was “looped” by a flute player and was published Oct. 2023 in Volume One.