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  • Writer's pictureLammergeier Staff

Ghost Town | Ellie Howard

Updated: Mar 30, 2021

My mother blamed ghosts when we moved back

in with her parents, afraid of the more tangible

suspended syllable before a debt collector’s

voicemail, morning malt-breath, chest tightness, broken

thrown things.

Ten years

in mildewed storage units, makeshift structure

city, dust haze, ghost town for luckless yellow

jackets, cardboard box bricks with packing tape

mortar and trashbag hills, our walkways little rivers,

the basketball hoop a busted streetlamp against the back

wall, hauled out from the front yard a few days before

the foreclosure. My stepdad used to fold himself over,

red and spitting worthlesses. Now he helps me scavenge

these boxes for baby pictures and the blue-trim china

kept in shrink-wrap. The arms of a plastic fir proffer

dead lights, wrapped in wire and lace binding

from a quilt I don’t remember. There are no gods

here, only spiders.

Caleb Howard is a non-binary writer, an English major at the University of West Georgia, and Editor-in-Chief of the Eclectic literary journal. Caleb enjoys reading obscure texts and petting animals.

Twitter: @calebjayhoward.



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