wraith
slipping through
untouchable
insubstantial
phantasmal
slight thing
no heart a home
to take this fleshless
specter in 

wraith
lifeless husk 
drifter
drifting
draught
cold pressing through
a song:
"is it always like this?";
then fading
spinning
from shade to shadow to 
nadir to night

wraith
who could hold
this hollow man?
this straw dog?
floating
useless
rags in
an autumn tree
flapping in the breeze

© Michael Raven