Alone in an Abandoned House
The landscape is dead, as am I.
Naked trees sway against the cold, wet kiss of the wind
and I rock myself, also naked, hounded by
life’s ghosts, its secrets, its arrogance.
I could die here and no one would know.
I could die here on this cold wooden floor,
alone with my psychosis,
just outside of town
and no one would know.
My eyes resemble these windows:
empty, broken and caked
with the dirt of wasted years
that took too long to pass by
even as they were too swift
to be corralled.
There are no drapes.
My lids do no shut.
No effort is made to protect
what is within from
what is without. There is no one
to tend to the details, so
the house falls in
on itself.
I might die here and no one will know.
(c)2008 Susan Sonnen
.
