Walking a city afternoon I made this photo through the window of an antique store.

I continued to gaze, fascinated by my reflection superimposed on the bed. It was as if I was laying down and drifting with the ghosts of all who had ever slept, dreamed, loved, laughed and cried, been born and died there, tangled in baroque light.

I was moved to free us from all this sleeping around.

Above, but out of the frame, was a sign in antiquarian lettering.

It said ‘Dreams For Sale’.

 

ghosts cannot rest

in this dislocated bed

 

perplexed by labyrinths of iron

and the endless touch of the living

 

their spines and cheeks

never crease the haunted sheets and pillows

 

outside looking in I’m inside looking out

whispering to the reflected dead

you are loved and you are loved

and you are free

 

Walk on

Photo and Poem by clinock.