Spectres (Reprise)
Marisa Silva-Dunbar
for R.M.
I.
We are haunted by the same ghosts.
II.
With you they are angry—ignored./You wake with the taste of sulfur/on your tongue; walls bleed, static cracks/cold spots poke at the nape of your neck.//Memories—spirits, followed you across continents—decades.//Your rancor is a hex around you.
III.
I spoke with the apparitions often—early./I created altars, offered whisky and marigolds/—left covered plates of bread and honey./Sometimes I still leave a spliff or two.//At night I burn incense so when they wander through my dreams/there’s no rage between you and me./They’ve shown how to be a healer—/what herbs soothe my wounds./ They could teach you too.
IV.
They place items on my nightstand—/things I thought I’d lost forever: a drawing of you, an earring you left/in my room after a night of dancing,/a photo of us sipping on strawberry margaritas. I never feel loneliness in my bones anymore.
V.
You were always a leaver, afraid of confrontation—a poltroon to your marrow./Others you discarded when they wanted to swim into the depths—become selkies. You never learned how to plunge or mend.
VI.
We are almost 5,000 miles apart and still haunted.
Marisa Silva-Dunbar’s work has been published in Thought Catalogue, Chantarelle’s Notebook, and Dusk Magazine. Her third chapbook, “Sueños: The Nighttime Mind,” was released in October 2025 from Maverick Duck Press. Her first full-length collection, “Allison,” was published by Querencia Press in 2022. You can find her on all socials @thesweetmaris. To check out more of her work go to www.marisasilvadunbar.com