Ghosts

Can ghosts die?
Can they walk through cats and doors and memories one last time
Can they drift to the tops of old ghost-cherry trees and look out at the rising clouds
Can they lock themselves, pull themselves, drag themselves down
Can ghosts cry?
Does it feel like mist, or steam, or old brandy seeping from the side of a brittle barrel
Do the tears squeak out like pudding between harmonica teeth
Like jello from a trumpet mouth or trifle from a tight-lipped vase
Can ghosts wave goodbye?
Do ghosts get the chance to kiss the smooth tops of their gravestones
To mark their ghost-handprints in white chalk along brick walls
Do they march off to the sound of ghost-brass bells
Does my ghost want to cry?