Rachel Hadas: Ghost Guest

I sometimes think I recognize the face

of my own death. Knowing it is nearer

makes me feel it ought to be familiar,

a neutral guest I’ve seen somewhere before.

Even if it’s not a face I know,

can it be ignored,

that shadow presence quiet in a corner?

And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.

Which is the lesser of two evils here,

which the least boorish way to be a host?

Who is hosting whom? If I’m a host,

I’m also just as much a guest, a ghost.

What heart heard of, ghost guessed. So,

.

death, I’ll acknowledge you, I’ll be polite,

hand you a drink and let you circulate

and talk with others. You will cycle back.

Precisely: at my back I always hear

and do not hear and see and do not see,

know and do not know you’ll catch up with me.

Since I think I know you from somewhere,

why should I be so sure

that you do not know me at least as well,

my length of days and my Achilles heel,

which in each person’s in a different place?

Sometimes I think I recognize your face.

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Copyright 2023 Rachel Hadas. From Ghost Guest (Ragged Sky Press, 2023)

Rachel Hadas is the Board of Governors Professor of English at Rutgers University—Newark and the author of more than 20 books of poetry, essays, and translations.