THE HOUSE

SILENCE LYNCHED BY DANGLING COBWEBS
the start of a story still being written
a carpet mapped in stain ,
edges frayed shorelines-
carved brown caskets salute in the dark
shrouds hung over violent eyes
steer the light away

broken splinters perform as artists
 magician and stair
buried in stone and rusted sight
Angels fallen into forgotten rooms
guard jointed bone
weeping spirit sleeps from murders whisper

Tables dusted in sin
stand drenched in vacant population 
small tin toys creak in the annoyance
the large lid of the door 
​​​​​​​ proudly displays the guillotines stone head

Words in speech
​​​​​​​crawl from past vessels beached
Spheres of gloomy glass
perched on twisted iron arms
Echos partner and dance times polka

​​​​​​​Ssssh the door opens