Ghost Town Pantoum

In the ghost town, we walk hand in hand,
thin shadows waving over lost saloons
and the ragged posters of medicine shows,
our watches hidden, forgetting time.

Thin shadows waving over lost saloons,
we guess at the names on the faded headstones.
Our watches hidden, forgetting time,
we kiss in the shade of the jail. She tells me

we guess at the names on the faded headstones
as we walk on our own crooked journey;
we kiss in the shade of the jail. She tells me
stories plied from the gospel wagon

as we walk on our own crooked journey.
Her voice is shadow now; the light rays expand.
Stories plied from the gospel wagon
fade on a prayer book's tattered pages.

Her voice is shadow now; the light rays expand
past lovemaking stains on single beds,
fade on a prayer book's tattered pages.
The chapel towers over sunburned land.

Past lovemaking stains on single beds
and the ragged posters of medicine shows,
the chapel towers over sunburned land.
In the ghost town, we walk hand in hand.


    Published in College Town (Tebot Bach, 2010)