06 May 2012


This poem takes its first line from Denude.

History 5/6

The houses of our minds are creaky with it - full
to the rafters with hollow-eyed faces that stare
from our attic windows at the sunlit streets below

When a ball is hit into our yard we shake
our fists declare it ours and toss it in our basements

At night our eyes flutter beneath our lids - full
of sights we will not remember - broken pasts
that collect all the dust in the world

That encase themselves and for models of what
was is and whatever will

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