Hungry Ghosts

They scrape when you don't give them their due
Pretend you don't hear them
Until their stories worm at you
Faces staring from every picture
Outlines emerging from every tossed jacket
Standing lamp or crooked curtain
Melting away
When you look straight at them

Encouraged, they begin to whisper
So that you take down the pictures
Clean the house
Turn on the radio...
...but it won't make you any happier
You've already invited them in
And they know it
Better get cooking

Oh, some would be happy with just a kind word
Or a warm breath
But others need scent
To lift them to the front of memory
Where there's space to stretch, sigh
And fade again
Content
Some greedy beggars
Really need the meat
The broth, the dumplings, the spice
Can't leave you alone
Until they feel you eat it
Hear you politely offer them some

When every one has come into full view
Retold the same broken record memories
And sipped a little
From what they once were
Only then can you clear the table
Throw open the windows
And leave them to their dusty picture boxes

I've tried to tell you
Seeing your worn eyes and scattered kitchen
But you always change the subject
Not wanting to hear my advice
For fear of the cure
I want to ask
Where are all the others?
The spirits from a thousand generations
Ancient races, lost cultures, overlooked souls
That bother no one
Because the living
Have become forgetful
Disinterested
A bare cupboard

You say, we must not abandon the past
I say, be careful which ones you feed