St. Kilda
By Ali Alizadeh
Ghosts bristle from the grimy
grout of cobbles and tiles. Foot
-paths, the Ouija board. Feet
pulled by forces to trace, decrypt
names. Whispers just audible
to haunted ears. Pedestrians
strollers and filth, endless
streets. My mind an accomplice
a terrified toddler, curious
climbs the steps toward the attic
a house planted on dead memories.
Eyes catch shadows, shoes
read the Braille of faces. Shades
surface beneath my boots, blacken
the soles on the sullen trail,
a ghost-infested city.