Sleeping In The New House

Old shadows break in the brand new walls 

The dirt projected by the naked winter giants of trees 

Stains bare wooden flesh with familiar rusty bandages 

 

All the old calloused front porches 

Welcome the newcomer 

 

You can see the tears marked on the ground 

Where the old house stood 

Outlined in chalk like a crime scene 

At the bottom of a pit 

That got ripped in the floorboards 

 

But the construction workers – 

They plaster the old wound shut. 

wph

VT

16 years old

More by wph

  • Poetry

    By wph

    Midwestern Night

    Midwestern night.

    There’s something out in the fields,

    Something banging on the roof.


     

    Fresh vomit in the toilet.

    The sink is running, so you can’t

    Hear your own heavy breathing.


     

  • Poetry

    By wph

    Pliocene Morning

    There was a collapsed star.

    There was light at the very end of a cave.

    There was lightning that struck a tree.

    There was a baby born

    With a slightly bigger skull, one day.