But another angle that interests me is the concept of the human mind as a host. I have become fascinated with the idea of possession and exorcism. This is not to say that I actually believe in spiritual or demonic possession -- just that I find it to be an interesting reflection of psychological duality.
So I wrote a poem about it. Well, I wrote several poems about it. This one in particular is about a deceased family member surviving through his son, and the crisis of identity which follows. Or something like that.
Arithmetic
I.
this is what i know:
that one of us is gone.
he took his air so coolly
that we hardly felt the vacuum.
in his dusty parlor our misplaced faces
fade into felt hats;
fingerprints like saccharin melt
into limp lethargic coffee,
margarine on noon toast.
II.
in the same scene it was you
in my reflection, a ghost at my elbow
or i, a ghost at yours:
i, the eldest son or you,
the youngest daughter, in the doorway
in your father's hat and coat.
III.
one gone, i still saw three, or two
in one, or three in two. the felt-hatted man,
he comes and goes;
I never ask his name
for fear that he'll say mine.
