Ghost Town House by Kristina Ciminillo

Ghost Town House

Way down low at the

End of the long

Winding road there

Stands a house around

Which the dust motes flow

The freeway that comes

Right along side

This crummy place

Rushes headlong so straight

It seems extreme and

Out of place


This empty space

Wasn’t built by set designers

On a movie crew

People where really here

Maybe happily too


Rebellious kids left over the track

Never meaning to come back

Died wishing they had

Made momma glad


Dried up apple cores

Bottles by the cupboard

Torn mosquito wire

Books and papers

Cords and drapers


Stench of a drunkard

Droppings of a sparrow flock

A buzzing of a thousand bees

Made their home beneath an eave

Who could tend with these


Who’s gonna bring fresh breeze

Someone one bold

Faithful and strong if you please


They said “It’s too old

But he showed them gold

Now the revenue it generates

Helps him commiserate


The wind whistles around

But inside it hasn’t found

It’s welcome anymore

So it plays kid lore

As it wiggles the leaves

Of the tulips you can see

That have come to be

There under the porch


Renters safe from harm

No squatters to alarm

Safe and warm

From wintery storms

Their pet dog warns

Them of

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