House of Bad Luck

I once lived in the house of bad luck.

It was haunted by spirits of dead friends who died in the 90’s from cancer.

My living room was directly above the room he passed away in.

I wouldn’t say the house caused the cancer.

I will blame the sun and its death rays that burn the skin.

Or maybe it was the motivation to dig his own swimming pool.

He would be out there for hours digging this giant hole.

The new owner was impressed by the giant hole in the backyard and it took him much effort to fill in the hole.

To fill in a dead man’s dream pool.

There were raspberry bushes and a mulberry tree in the yard.

They were perfect for using in homemade tarts.

The largest tree in the yard fell on the house during a thunderstorm.

The tree was struck by lightning and it's burnt flesh and bark peeling back to reveal life inside it.

My Siamese cat saw ghosts.

She followed them to the corners of rooms with her back fur arched up like a dinosaur,

Like a kitty Mohawk.

There was more than one ghost in the house of bad luck.

There were several who had succumb to addiction and disease.

Who’s spirit still lived in this house.

I drank more than I have ever drunk.

I lost several jobs while living in this house.

The day I moved out I felt a cloud of dark smoke lift off me.

My landlord moved to Florida.

He lost the house due to drug addiction and foreclosure.

I can still hear him singing “It’s raining men” at the top of his lungs at 3 AM on a Tuesday night when I had to work early the next morning.

I believe in good spirits.

I believe in bad spirits.

But I never knew how much a house could mess with your psyche and your mental health.

*This poem is featured in Peeling Sanity due for release in October 2018. Be sure to check out my other poetry collections on Amazon.

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