WARD KELLY
A Ghost to the Flesh

Love is that which binds us, one soul
to another . . . and time is that which bends

us, one soul hurtling, one catching.
Love is an ember which smolders

forever before it explodes, but one
cannot light it or fan it, it has a time

of its own, a mystery to even itself.
Time is the silent sister of love, she

is always there, a clear shadow,
a ghost to the flesh of love who

will haunt you and trouble you
invisibly, and only when you grow

accustomed to her bedevilment --
when you suspect she never existed

at all -- only then will she explode
the ember and set you afire.

Love and time, they whisper together.