Gregory Crosby
The Medium S., in a Tightly Stitched & Sealed Costume, June 23, 1913
Mathilde Ludendorff, who attended a séance, stated she had observed the ectoplasm to be made of gauze and it was attached to a secret thread that was pinned to the cabinet.
Every hour is an eleventh hour now.
Here’s another voice, warming its hands
at the heart burning in my throat; it won’t
save our world, but it might save our soul (souls
are bigger than the world in any case).
It’s like a séance for the living—hold
my hand, dear future ghost, & let’s ask
our questions across a candlelit table.
Is this a date? It is, if you want it to be.
It took one medium to bury the dream,
another to resurrect it, & now
we return it to its resting place--
a tomb, built out of air, out of waves.
(The medium, she’s the message;
hot & cold, feverish & cool, beneath
this veil we call time). O Spirits, you’re safe:
if you speak in a poem, rest assured—no one
will ever hear you. Your war is over
(your peace, too). When they pull the fabric
from out of her mouth, what will she say?
Will she look into my eyes? Will she faint?
Or in that dark divided by a flash,
will there be something I can almost believe?
Every hour is an eleventh hour now.
Here’s another voice, warming its hands
at the heart burning in my throat; it won’t
save our world, but it might save our soul (souls
are bigger than the world in any case).
It’s like a séance for the living—hold
my hand, dear future ghost, & let’s ask
our questions across a candlelit table.
Is this a date? It is, if you want it to be.
It took one medium to bury the dream,
another to resurrect it, & now
we return it to its resting place--
a tomb, built out of air, out of waves.
(The medium, she’s the message;
hot & cold, feverish & cool, beneath
this veil we call time). O Spirits, you’re safe:
if you speak in a poem, rest assured—no one
will ever hear you. Your war is over
(your peace, too). When they pull the fabric
from out of her mouth, what will she say?
Will she look into my eyes? Will she faint?
Or in that dark divided by a flash,
will there be something I can almost believe?
Gregory Crosby is the author of Said No One Ever (2021, Brooklyn Arts Press) and Walking Away From Explosions in Slow Motion (2018, The Operating System). He is wearing a hat.