In A Ghost Town Frame Of Mind (Final Version) Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

there's thunder like a rumor in the air all day

or maybe the ghost train on its way

it's impossible to tell, are they staying or going

should it be raining, or is it snowing;

portmanteaus in hand or is this a haunted land

where what you think you see

is only who they used to be

where even the tumbleweed is an illusion

or is it kind of a spell

by the striking blue of ozone, time short circuiting

so that we weren't forewarned

mere sailors of these ships of dust

who long ago had turned to rust

packing it all in, heave desert anchors, ho!

still wondering where the wave begins,

the shore retreats; beating the querulous question sweet

like an ineffectual drum;

ghost armies on the run but the war was won

when will we go home

soaked unto the bone

does anybody know

did anyone ever show up

at the depot to meet you?

mary angela douglas 25 july 2022; 13 march 2023