Filled with Romance, Ghosts, & other things
Behind the cypress, her bell-tower rings
The carnage repeated income
Won West by clamorous shotgun
The clutter heaped high in corners
Faded once glamorous foyers.
Shrouded in newsprint and dust covers
Solitude ties knots for old lovers
Binoculars through turrets edge
Blinking over Widow’s Walk ledge
Flakes from an ice pick finial
Society status: surreal.
Daughters remain to stay in their bedrooms
Mothers immobile in time like vacuums;
It’s difficult drawing the line between
What blueprints show and what’s on the deed
Habits divert to stave empty roosts
Closets avert what secrets seduce
Hallways occupy but give no
Destination that’s plainly shown
Bolt the garden gate, don’t ignore
The urge to check twice your front door.
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