Halfway up a mountain, I’m desperate to see a ghost. Not the way I used to be, letting faucets drip at night, leaving light switches half-flipped; a dozen small gestures begging supernatural interference. Now I look for ghosts to understand why my body feels more haunted than any place.
Gabriella Graceffo
GABRIELLA GRACEFFO is a graduate student at the University of Montana pursuing her MFA in Poetry and MA in Literature. She is an Associate Editor at Poetry Northwest and previously worked at the Southwest Review, The Boiler, and CutBank. Her writing appears or is forthcoming in Rattle, Poets & Writers, Cordite, Autofocus, Chestnut Review, and more. She is the recipient of the Goedicke/Robinson Scholarship in Poetry, the David R. Russell Memorial Poetry Award, and the Ridge Scholarship. You can find her curled up with her two cats in snowy Missoula, MT.
