A foghorn sobs its ghostly passing through
The sun's descending carnival of skies,
While mountains float, untouchable, in blue.

Our yard dips steeply to the street below
Where playing children's distant squealings rise.
A foghorn sobs its ghostly passing-through.

Smoking coals char slabs of barbecue:
The year's last pungent cloud, last crazy flies—
While mountains float, untouchable, in blue.

My stomach clenches for the touch of you
that's almost here. If I could exorcise
The foghorn-sobs, their ghostly passing-through,

Mocking every heartbeat.  Is it true
The presence lingers though the bond unties?
Do mountains float, untouchable, in blue?

And what good will it do me if they do?
Inscrutable, insatiable goodbyes
Whose foghorn sobs their ghostly passing-through,
Whose mountains float, untouchable, in blue.

Siham Karami lives in Northwest Florida, is a mother of five, and owns a technology recycling company. Her works have been published or will be published in 14 by 14, 4 and 20, Sonnetto Poesie, and The Whirlwind Review.