the house you can’t see on the hill

There’s a knock-knocking
in the floorboards of his chest.
There’s an empty kettle in his head,
it won’t stop whistling in his ears.
Cobwebs stretch from joint to joint,
the spiders are here,
they’re everywhere.
The curtains won’t stop dancing,
white and pale,
flickers of light, like a ghost.
He cannot unsee what’s outside the window.
dust chokes his throat,
the air is caught, disturbed, even though
no soul has disturbed these halls,
no one has entered this home.
For centuries and more.
the sunken piano, it no longer sings,
it stands next to a hinged door,
look down at the floor.
at all these disgusting things,
so damned broken in.
corkscrews stuck in teddy bears,
dolls with tear-filled eyes,
tiny red cars spinning out of control,
puzzle pieces spell out words,
words oh so cold.
a note caught between cracks on the wall,
last parting words of a lover who left
and never again called.
The faucet won’t stop dripping,
drip-drip, the water runs down
the drains, the phone no longer rings.
he closes his fingers into fists,
Cross legged and silent he sits.
a reflection in the window,
nothing ever fits.