the woman next to me has been dead
seventy years
she says she lost her husband
i say i've lost mine too
i tell her last night his ghost arrived
in a text message
in the morning it was gone
three days ago he lit up my gchat,
then I remembered his coffin.
all my technology is dying
she nods and says the internet
is slower in heaven
something about routers
wires eroding
because of rain
it's hard, being a prism
in a burning city
it's hard
being haunted when the dead
are stealing your glory