if you dare
I will show you how these walls
barely stand, these floors
fall out from under you
the ceilings shiver and quake
the stairs rock and sway
and the second floor holds
people you would never want to meet
some of them are me
some I’ve never escaped
family I suppose
or neighbors who tried to be
you know that village thing?
this house
this house holds a village
and too many of them are me
this is the room
of the suicide
I was eight
and already sure
I needn’t get older
that nothing would ever improve
and this
this is the room of murders
people I’ve wanted to kill
and how or where
this is the garden room
roses lilys gardenias weeds
all packed thickly
and thriving
I don’t know how they get air
or sunshine
or rain
this is the room for my innocence
in the basement, of course
you don’t want to know what happened there
nor what hangs from the furnace
oh, I thought I told you not to look
yes, a corpse
not mine
and burned past recognition
but I can’t get rid of it
I’ve tried
this is the parlor
we are nice in here
serve tea
talk with the preacher
or banker
or the police when they come
I think we have called too often
they mostly ignore us
this is the kitchen
I don’t go in there
we kill things
kill them and prepare them for eating
some eat us
the others we eat
but in the dining room
no, I can’t show you
it is spattered with blood
and I don’t remember whose
this is the guest bedroom
where I put cousins
or friends
when they visit
none more than once
and this..
oh
you are backing away
looking for the front door
yes, well I warned you
I didn’t expect you to stay
good luck
on finding your way
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