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Wednesdays on One Poem Only are a double feature: one poem here on the podcast, and one more by the same poet shared on Instagram.
You can’t see the ghosts
until you’re almost one—
until your breath learns how to hesitate,
until mirrors stop recognising you
without thinking.
They gather in the quiet margins:
hospital hallways at 3 a.m.,
old songs that bruise instead of heal,
names you don’t say aloud anymore.
The living pass straight through them,
laughing, late for something,
arms full of tomorrow.
They don’t feel the cold.
But you—
you slow down enough to notice
how memory weighs more than bone,
how absence has a voice,
how survival leaves footprints backward.
That’s when the ghosts turn their faces.
Not to haunt you—
but to ask if you remember
who you were
before you learned how to disappear.
More from Charlotte Dawn ↓
Watch the Second Poem
You can watch and listen to Hash browns by Charlotte Dawn as part of our Wednesday double feature on Instagram at @rembrandts.cure.
Support + Stay Connected to OPO
If you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.
Two poems. One poet. Let the words keep moving.
Mentioned in this episode:
Write After: National Poetry Month with One Poem Only
Write After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice. We'll get started in April. You can share to #WriteAfterOPO.
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