Headstone

Truth can have its hauntings, too.
All truths, like all people, die,
But wraiths can haunt the cupboards

Of a perfectly boring,
Ordinary truth. That’s why
Folks never tire of noting

How chemistry descended
From alchemy—while looking
Around, as if alchemy

Might suddenly shake tables
Of elements. Predictions
Of all kinds have ancestors

In their methods, sortilege
Revenants in scatter plots.
Truth has its cemeteries.

They may hold mostly harmless
Bones and earthworms, but young truths
Whistle, passing in the gloom.