February 7th, 2017

Nobody's home

I am fighting to evict someone from a house in my head.

The lease is with a guest long vanished, but the house’s contents remain intact.

Inside lights have been dark for a year.

Snow on steps is free of footmarks. Rain overflows leaf-clogged eaves.

Newspapers flap against porch railings like trapped birds. Mail overflows the box.

This will happen:

Sun will bleach siding, exposing its grain, and it will gnarl in rain.

The roof will leak, warping floors.

Pipes will burst. The furnace will die.

The foundation will crumble; the house will list and fall. Rubble will tumble into the cellar, hidden by weeds and thriving vines.

This I will say:

The house was mine, but the tenant ruined it.