Tuesday, January 19, 2016

Haunting House



Nobody told me
this house was full of ghosts.

Nobody told me 
it burned ten times down
to ash and blackened posts.

Nobody told me
of the old bile and blood,
of walls with incense permeating
from ancient rituals long ago,
anxious notes, crying letters unsent,
buried under hard basement footings,
and the evidence hiding in the ducts,
how some things won't stop bleeding
through the floors or the ceilings
and wafting through the vents
lulling us to sleep
and acceptance
of our slow choking deaths.

Nobody told me
this house was full of ghosts

Nobody told me,
I had to live it to know.


~

 

2 comments:

Cloudia said...

Your rhythm and word choice are spot on!

eric1313 said...

Thank you, Cloudia.

Rhythm is one of the pains I take. Rhythm, message, and honesty, all are equally important for poetry.