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The silverfish lays her eggs where the blue walls meet
As chitin-hardened feel hike the hardwood floors
Below door frames, alight with dust woven webs
Spun to moth flustered drawers
To the dresser, packed only with linens, once clean
To the now clean pantry, emptied by colony, by colony
Of tiny marching infantries
And hungry mouths a plenty
Crawling ghouls, clans of roaches, shells spotted red
Spotted black, in the dead air, in the absence of human noise
Nowhere on earth do abandoned structures stand
Though the hands of the land owners have long left their hearths
They are only neglected by us