City of Ashes, City of Ghosts

1
I came to a city clothed in smoke,
a city waiting to become tomorrow’s
cinders 

Mantles were already charred and
hearths had hosted their last suppers.

Inhabitants filled their mouths with ash
and held their hands upward for a sign 
that never came.
 
2
Words scatter themselves before me,
soft as leather, heady as musk; 
some are stacked like coffins, 
each holding a sleeping body 
shrouded in sackcloth:

          Do they still dream?
          If they dream, 
         do they speak of it?

And who are the ghosts that listen?