Get this

What makes a ghost visible?
The possibility of the unseen
And the chance to be noticed.
Against wind and tide, the vows
Not taken, the road not spoken,
My illness is time. Time unspent
And unlived, unhealed and unwed,
The discernible ghoul of my traces
Into the multitude of us, unborn,
Unfed, unmet, unloved, unbroken.
Awkward and imperfect, yet salient
To my eyes, full of wraithlike combs
And joyful slopes of cuddled marks,
Such treacherous snake coils at dawn
And counts my femaleness in gulps.

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