Bio Note: My name is Scott Ferry and I write because the raven-haired harpies demand it. I feed them poems but they bite all the same. I have two books: The only thing that makes sense is to grow (Moon Tide, 2020) and Mr. Rogers kills fruit flies (Main St. Rag, 2020).
bob the ghost
my daughter flying on her bike me swishing her brother in a stroller approach a police vehicle in the road yellow tape and twenty or so neighbors standing in a driveway hushed and rapt by a swat team discharging tear gas canisters splintering second story windows in the house we have never liked because the man is too eager to chat with my beautiful wife as she pushes the baby around the corner without looking and we notice there are always new cars rotating on a ten minute loop once they deal what is dealt so i ask and the woman jean (with the blind dog) she says isn’t it sad, the man died in there a few days back and before that the young son of the family who owned the house ODed and it has been sketchy ever since and now they are trying to get someone out of that house they have been trying for hours and my nine-year-old daughter hears this and we decide to point the opposite direction and she says ten houses later this stretch is creepy i inquired why because two people died in the same house don’t you think that’s creepy? yes, like haunted? yes, like there is a ghost who doesn’t want people to be in his house so he kills them i think his name is bob and he just hates people living where he wants to be i told her i think that would make an amazing story but this morning she announces she couldn’t sleep why? because bob needs a new house because bob
©2021 Scott Ferry
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to tell her or him. You might say what it is about the poem that moves you. Writing to the author is what builds the community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -JL