Sacrifice Your Ghosts

by Jeffrey Wright

Hosted by a breeze, lilac’s scintillating
scent permeates me with wistfulness.

Hitting every light in town, we crawl
along. Past your old digs on West 12th,
above the closed Beatrice Inn. Smoke
seeping from the seams of my past.

I have tried to stay ahead of the game.
Letting go scores. Pulling my weight.
Of devotion’s debt, let none find doubt.

Vinegar and grits on my shopping list.

Anybody’s guest. Come to us again
like a lit page fitting into the script.

Even old rocks dream of getting stoned.
Sacrifice all your ghosts, mad for vision.