These Ghosts

A rippling wall lets me know I’m alive
when the lights come on and there’s no one inside

The carpet stains scream for countless days
and I dream of a wash in innumerable ways

You sit up and take notes
amid the voles and the stoats

With your withering eyes
that offer no hint of surprise

Creak more wood now I’m listening
steam the windows ‘til they’re glistening

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s