Poetry of Issue #8        Page 89

Leaving Pascagoula

so the captain’s ghost roamed
the victorian brownstone
where legend says

he’d plastered the walls
with his aubrey double-
barrel 12 gauge before

the bank could foreclose
every night he reenacted
the scene firing round after

round across the divide
parting or perhaps the part
dividing this world

from that every morning
english muffins served
with sweet creamery

butter & homemade jam
waited by the door
how lovely I thought

  Matt Morris