the pink house
abandoned in the woods,
so we go through a broken
window
in the cellar,
our gang
of boys, exploring what's
left behind.
there's the couch against
the wall,
a tv on the floor.
a child's doll.
toothbrushes in the bathroom.
beds with the sheets
still on.
we dodge the racoon
that has made this place
his home.
a bat circles before it finds
the window.
i stop at the kitchen
and see
on the wall
the markings of children
as they grew
year after year.
the lines and dates
where their heads once rested
as a mother
made the marks.
who were these children,
where are they now?
there's even a Christmas wreathe
still hanging
on the door.
everyone is still here,
everyone is gone.
No comments:
Post a Comment