"Little Ghost" by Jess Levens

It’s the morning after—she and I cry

on the couch, cuddled, sobbing silently,

save for shuddered breaths and hitching sniffles.

Your little ghost is in every corner

of every room of the house. Your spirit

now occupies all the negative space:

The green cushion by the fireplace;

the empty bowl by the back door;

the lack of weight on my right thigh;

The cold spot this morning in bed;

the circle inside a vacant

collar resting on a pine box.

White hairs stick to every piece of dark

fabric like pollen. I wish I could plant

a few and grow you again and again.

Sympathy flora wilts away, but you

are forever His Mama’s Good Baby—

the sweet ectoplasm falling from her eyes.

Letting you go is the first bitter taste

of loss for my boys, but leaving you in

love was the right lesson for them to learn.

You are the standard every future dog

will fail to meet and a jab of thought that

makes me misty-eyed every now and then.

Goodbye, Huck. You were a good boy.

Jess Levens is a poet and photographer who lives with his wife, sons and dogs in New England, where he draws inspiration from the region’s landscapes and history. His poetry has been published in The Dillydoun Review and Prometheus Dreaming. Jess is a Marine Corps veteran and Northeastern University alum.