house

in the mud,

in the dirt,

in the silt,

in the pores of the earth,

with the worms,

the moles,

the bugs,

amongst the milkweed,

swaying in the wind,

their fluff floating out,

into the gentle breeze,

flowing far and free,

in the murky waters,

with the fish,

the tadpoles,

the algae,

in the weeds,

in the nutsedge,

in the growth,

in the shadows of the lilypads,

this is the quiet that will be felt when the houses sink

deep into the sludge

and the wood rots

and the paint peels,

this is the quiet that will be felt when our home is once again our home.

ender

VT

18 years old

More by ender

  • rot

    my leg is a rotting log and i am stumps

    i am stumps which are crawling with the little maggots

    the little white slimy maggots which are crawling under my skin

  • 4

    there are swans all around me 

    but they are blind 

    or i am invisible 

    and i don't know which

  • graduation

    i once found myself at a crossroads

    i searched within myself

    and like they love to say

    i took the road less traveled

    now i am at the end of the road