A horizon is a trick of distance: a line that looks like an edge but is only the limit of what we can see. Meena Muska builds "wordsforghosts" around that fact, and around a person whose eyes the speaker once took for the boundary of the world.
The poem opens with a question it cannot answer. The blue of the beloved's eyes "tricked" the speaker, and the explanation comes as a pair of options: "a mirage or sanctuary?" The two words are opposites that look identical from a distance. Each is a shimmer of promise, one false and one real, and you only find out which by walking toward it. Then comes the flat admission "I can't decide," followed by a lone "But," which works as a hinge. The poem turns on a single word and a comma.
What follows is a dream, and the refrain returns almost unchanged: "the blue horizon of your eyes / came to me." Now the eyes act on their own, arriving uninvited. The dream's central image is gentle, with purple carnations brushing the speaker's face and a "you" who is "careful / not to press too hard." The next lines turn the tenderness into something stranger. The care exists "just in case / I awoke at the moment of your / betrayal." The softness is part of the betrayal, because the beloved is gentle so that the sleeper won't wake and catch them. The poem doesn't say whether this happens in the dream or in a remembered life, and the blur seems deliberate. The line breaks help. "Betrayal" is held back by a break after "your," so the reader waits for the word, just as the speaker is being kept from it.
Then "which, / in time, / became a gift." The colon after "gift" promises an explanation, but the poem first stops to concede the cost: "Even though / it filled me with sadness." The speaker doesn't pretend the pain was pleasant. The distance between the two people has "multiplied across space & time," and "multiplied" is an unexpected verb. Distance is usually said to grow or widen, but multiplying suggests it compounds, one gap producing another. The ampersand in "space & time" gives the line a casual, almost typed-out feel.
The last stanza revises the refrain. Where the earlier lines named the eyes themselves, the poem now says "beyond / the blue horizon of your eyes / the real sky reveals itself." Only a preposition has changed, but the meaning has moved. The eyes were never the destination, whether mirage or sanctuary. They were a boundary, and the gift of the betrayal was that it made the speaker look past it. The word "real" quietly judges everything before it as a version of the sky, not the sky itself. The closing ellipsis leaves the sentence open, which suits an image with no edge.
The form supports this. The poem is free verse, with no rhyme and no fixed meter, so its rhythm comes from breath and from the length of each line. Short, isolated lines ("I can't decide." / "But,") sit against long, trailing ones, and the staggered indentation steps the text rightward, like thoughts drifting or a sleeper sinking. Sound is used lightly. "Blue," "you" and "your" share a long vowel, so the refrain keeps chiming through the poem like a repeated note.
The title, "wordsforghosts," is a single lowercase word, which reads as a username or tag. Judging by the poem, it suggests words addressed to someone who is no longer present, though the text never says so.
What makes the poem worth reading is that it never settles its opening question. It doesn't announce that the eyes were a mirage after all, or a sanctuary after all. It outgrows the question. Many poems about betrayal either stay angry or hurry toward forgiveness. This one gives the pain its place ("it filled me with sadness") and then shows what distance made possible: a wider view in which the person who once filled the whole horizon becomes one thing the speaker can see past.