Ghost Town: Port West Poem by Glenn Bagshaw

Once she had died, then I went to Port West
to plunge in town's undertow of sorrows.
The shore in time is surf as well, as crest
of flowing spray will throw down tomorrows.,
Always something drowns our days. She fit
in gloved spume's grasp, white-capped hands on the take.
But there are other ways. and now MInd, culprit,
conjures her shattered where sea mirrors break.
Again she dies, and, Port West, has doors in streets
hear silence speak. Windowed faces stay pained; .
and, slouched in half-dreams, one, at waxed floors, meets
her-she drifts, twists, wails; she sinks unsustained.
The real? Killer's skill that slays musically.
Hear- but fear dirges. Steer clear of the sea.