Spectre

The church had vanished, salvaging treasured songs
As a witness to lost prayers from the frail frame I’d born
The town was a victim of its own insides
From wretched lashes, stealth parades
From skulls and ashes she had made
The demolition, the curse
Of our advances
Our dead are dancers
The definition, the curse
She is a spectre and those who love her know
A sharp indentation of burial on a stage
Our deafening loss, our swift outrage
Oh the blunt mouth of the spectacle left the unwanted songs of dwellers
From the piers, the missing boy
Who gave more than I could employ…