The Ghost of Relevance; Calling Hours by Frank William Finney

The Ghost of Relevance

I am the ghost of Relevance.

I hang in this hotel.

I don’t care much

for fragrances

I’ve lost my sense

of smell.

Still I haunt

these lavish halls

and shake the chandelier:

I watch the living 

shivering—their faces

filled with fear.

I knock on doors

turn on the taps.

Make sure they know

I’m here.

I rattle hangers,

click the locks,

then moan

and disappear.

Calling Hours

Jack’s in a box

in a room full of flowers—

Even the taxidermist takes a turn.

One never knows

when the lid’s going to pop:

The music stops for every

body.