Bram Stoker's ghost is queueing

at the turnstile of the National Trust.

He's hoping for a viewing

of the abbey ruins at Whitby

the church and the plunging steps

where Lucy Westenra descended

entranced, danced to Dracula's tune

 

"Was Dracula real" he asks himself

as he looks far out to sea,

"or another facet, a commercial asset

of tragic history."