Wind in the Eaves

All bodies can be counted
As sets of circumstances
Among the circumstances
Selves discover they’re within.

Selves discuss with other selves
How best to better themselves,
Improve their circumstances,
A charming, selfish habit,

Given selves are compound ghosts
Compounded of each other,
Waving from one haunted house
To another. Why bother

To try to haunt these houses,
Strive to haunt whole neighborhoods,
Try to make circumstances
Appear possessions of ghosts,

Who knows? Apparently not
The ghosts, always whispering
To each other, fix that dead
Body, fix your broken world.