I
The phantom waltzes to an upbeat song,
softly, slowly, the fog creeps in,
and the men drown in the haze.

II
Through the clouded windows, it waits--watches
meanwhile, babies cry and their mothers sigh.

III
Names carved into marbled slates,
as the ghost sinks through the walls.

IV
In its silhouette the ghost pirhouettes
singing its siren song
dragging down those who can hear it

V
The bottles are empty,
the time has passed.
Luminous moon guards over the night

VI
The poltergeist cackles,
as the moon can protect no one.
They are infected with mercy.

VII
Fog trails closely behind the figure,
through the broken, battered buildings.

VIII
The city is dead.
The phantom smirks.

IX
The ghost lingers
and passes through the alleyways,
the fog dances after--following in time.

X
Night time passes in silence,
except for the ghost, singing its sad song
and there is--nothing--but death.

copywrite Shanna Howse 2012

so, I studied modernist poems in class, so I used this. My teacher didn't like that I didn't include my symbol in every stanza, so I decided to throw the original up here.