Pantoum for Your Ghost
by Beck Anson
You are with me in Belmont
where in my dreams you write to me that
your surrender was surviving
as you swallow a necklace of pearls.
Where in my dreams you write to me that
the madness is no fault of your own.
As you swallow a necklace of pearls,
you count to ten to hush the buzzing.
The madness is no fault of your own
as your latest research suggests.
You count to ten to hush the buzzing
telephone wires strung between your ears.
As your latest research suggests,
you fall into bed with the psychiatrist’s assessment.
Telephone wires strung between your ears
echoing taunts of Catholic school elementary.
You fall into bed with the psychiatrist’s assessment
because his degree speaks for itself.
Echoing taunts of Catholic school elementary,
you turn inkblots into memoirs.
Because his degree speaks for itself,
you swallow the pills, you make the bed,
you turn inkblots into memoirs,
you tango late-night to the twelve-step.
You swallow the pills, you make the bed,
psychoanalyze the past with a misguided eye,
you tango late-night to the twelve-step,
you tell the stories you need to tell.
Psychoanalyze the past with a misguided eye,
discover that it doesn’t matter if
you tell the stories you need to tell --
there’s no one else, hold yourself.
Discover that it doesn’t matter if
you are with me in Belmont.
There’s no one else, hold yourself --
your surrender was surviving.
where in my dreams you write to me that
your surrender was surviving
as you swallow a necklace of pearls.
Where in my dreams you write to me that
the madness is no fault of your own.
As you swallow a necklace of pearls,
you count to ten to hush the buzzing.
The madness is no fault of your own
as your latest research suggests.
You count to ten to hush the buzzing
telephone wires strung between your ears.
As your latest research suggests,
you fall into bed with the psychiatrist’s assessment.
Telephone wires strung between your ears
echoing taunts of Catholic school elementary.
You fall into bed with the psychiatrist’s assessment
because his degree speaks for itself.
Echoing taunts of Catholic school elementary,
you turn inkblots into memoirs.
Because his degree speaks for itself,
you swallow the pills, you make the bed,
you turn inkblots into memoirs,
you tango late-night to the twelve-step.
You swallow the pills, you make the bed,
psychoanalyze the past with a misguided eye,
you tango late-night to the twelve-step,
you tell the stories you need to tell.
Psychoanalyze the past with a misguided eye,
discover that it doesn’t matter if
you tell the stories you need to tell --
there’s no one else, hold yourself.
Discover that it doesn’t matter if
you are with me in Belmont.
There’s no one else, hold yourself --
your surrender was surviving.
Beck Anson is a queer and trans emerging writer whose work is featured in Humana Obscura and Rattle and has work forthcoming in RHINO. Find him on Instagram @beckansonpoet and read more of their work at beckanson.com.