Ghost Town by James McDermott

Ghost Town

drift past my father’s closed vintage clothes shop

still a closed vintage clothes shop three years on

this could be COSTA but coast rhymes with ghost

do I spy him in these ghoul-white Whippys

can I hear his breath if I push my ear

close enough to this conch shell town

have coffins turned me to crazy golf course

might Mondays always be helter skelters

could ash run right through me like SHERINGHAM

is tattooed through this brittle stick of rock

will it stick like sunburn or barnacles

are buckets now frisbees spades now dodgems

how Julys spin like this rack of postcards

each one screaming I WISH YOU WERE HERE

James McDermott is a Norwich based poet. His collections include 'Father Myself' and 'Wild Life' published by Nine Arches Press. His poems have been published in several journals and magazines including Poetry Wales, Magma, The North, Butcher's Dog and The Interpreter's House.