are tall and slim.
They do not smell of anything –

no bacteria grow in yoghurt pots
nor chicken bones fester (meant for stock),

bacon doesn’t moulder past its sell-by date –
ghosts store nothing which decays.

They wrap stones in cling film
arranging them on shelves in size

while letters, lists and kisses lie
like lettuces in drawers as the ghosts

freeze old memories in cubes
and, to keep themselves amused,

photograph each other on mobile phones
or open and close the fridge door

to admire the contrast of shadow and light.
Sometimes they climb inside

to escape the terrible loneliness
they feel outside.

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