My Ghost Author

I’m not a poetess, to be honest

That’s my pen who insists

to squeeze her body

up to the last drop


She is the ghost author

of my masterpiece

that yet to write, because

it’s too good to be true


She chooses to use metaphors

to make up my disability

of writing the truth,

when the reality is forbidden by law


not by ethical codes,

because the rules are always

somewhere between

shadows and sunshine


Anyhow, she will never respond

to critiques and comments

That’s me who fight for her right

to write in freedom of speech


Published in SPINE

My Ghost Author


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