9 Feb 2024
Laurie
Eaves
New Moon
Feb 24th
Jan 25th
after the film
𝑔ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑡
as swayze & his faceful of feelings ascend into retina-scarring
eighties elysium / the police swoop in / find demi & whoopi trembling
cuff them both
swayze spends most days questioning / why he went
to heaven / when he basically killed willie / god says don’t think about
it so much / but it nags him anyway / puts him off his shot / when
playing ghost golf
the nuns never cash the cheque /
assume it’s a bad joke / it goes through / the wash in a wimple
demi’s therapist says she’s
regressing / spends sunsets on windowsills / one leg dangling /
over the city / humming unchained / melody wishing they’d picked /
literally any other song
whoopi slinks back to her
apartment / counts the green / squashed beneath her tattered
mattress / lighter since she put up bail / some nights she wakes /
the taste of demi’s florida peach lipgloss / teasing her tongue /
wonders if she’ll call
Behind the poem...
Before eventually watching Ghost, all I knew of it was its iconic combination of pottery, The Righteous Brothers and Patrick Swayze. What struck me, seeing it for the first time in 2020, was its absolute refusal to stick to a genre: veering wildly from meditations on grief, to erotic thriller, to zany heist comedy – culminating in a kiss between Demi Moore and Whoopi Goldberg (the latter literally possessed by Patrick Swayze’s spirit). It’s weird. I wanted this poem to explore the next chapter of the story; revisit its final moments through a queer lens; continue its genre-hopping playfulness.