The Art of Tetman Callis

i scraped and shuffled and pawed my way through my desk
finding sheets of canceled airmail stamps

i cut them into airplane shapes with my exacting knife

building paper planes again

kneeling beside my bed i lifted the spread’s hemmed edge
sure i heard the ghost of my lover’s soft sobbing, or some sort of coughing
coming from the gap between the slats and floor

there was nothing there but my imagination and clumps of dust

i crawled beneath the bed to join them, gather them, dreams and dirt together
press them between my palms until they were one and they were dead

night came down
i slept

morning woke me with its light in through my window

the dead remained as they always are, dream-filled and as ghosts

i opened the window, called my lover’s name, let fly a paper plane

(Copyright 2023 by Tetman Callis.)