woodandhoney

My house has flooded

the carpet is soaked and the wood boards are rotting

each step leaves footprints in the silence inhabiting the floors

each step squeezes out this dirty water emotion- look how quickly it seeps back into place

I could replace it all, but the pipes would still leak

Maybe once the resulting draft makes its way through my bones,

into my marrow, I won’t even notice the cold

or how the floor is contaminating the walls and breeding a swamp

No one sees it of course, but we all know it’s there

I can see the confusion briefly flash across the faces of my visitors

they leave anxiously

perhaps not wanting to leave me alone

or perhaps eager to make their exit

Tagged: poem