The ghosts of the blue-haired ladies
Careened by in a big white Cadillac
With three angry poodles
A sullen parakeet
And many boxes
Bearing the names
Of lost department stores

I was holding
Black candles
And waiting
For a bus
That would never come

The moon gave me
A cratered grin
Through shreds
Of fleeing night creatures
Undoing themselves
Above the streetlights

I was wearing
Black velvet
Black silk
I was a shadow
Smoke and mystery
Waiting for an emergency
Rescue

Across the tarmac
Up from the holy
Howling grounds
I felt my heart
Rise away
With the celluloid spirits
Moving out moving on
From their custom
Mausoleums

I was touching the doll
In my pocket
You poured through
The soot in the street cracks
Much taller more lucent
Producing a taxi
From litter and
Latter day grief

I was certain
It was
Too late

Nancy Ellis Taylor gives readings several times a year in the L.A. area at such venues as the Midnight Special Bookstore and Pepperdine University. Her work has appeared in a variety of journals, including Xenophilia, The Red River Review, and The Magazine of Speculative Poetry. She's also a screenwriter, specializing in horror and dark fantasy with her writing partner Denise Dumars.