Hook & Ladder Company 8, by Vicki Iorio
A poem
Hook & Ladder Company 8
Tourists come to North Moore to take pictures of the Ghostbuster sign above the firehouse red doors. Territorial as a cat, I block their camera shots. This is my street, my hood— I ain't afraid of no ghosts. Not this plump, cloudy Michelin ghost encirlcled in a red slash. Not this ghost, but my father’s, transparent in a woolen plaid shirt he watches me every night to remind me of my malfeasance, as if I know what that means. My dead cats charge up and down the staircase when the lights go out. I hear them rumble. I choke on their stiff fur in the wee hours. The wee hours, that’s what my mother called sleepless nights— her ghost drinks tea at my kitchen table, old sharp bones rip through her housecoat.
About the poet:
Vicki Iorio is the author of the poetry collections Poems from the Dirty Couch, Local Gems Press, Not Sorry, Alien Buddha Press and the chapbooks Send Me a Letter, dancinggirlpress and Something Fishy, Finishing Line Press, The Blabbermouth. Alien Buddha Press. Her poetry has appeared in numerous print and on-line journals including The Painted Bride Quarterly, Rattle, poets respond on line, The Fem Lit Magazine, and The American Journal of Poetry. When Vicki is not writing poems she is either on her Peloton bike or drinking a crisp white wine.