Housing Our Ghosts

when we first bought the house
it was white-washed and sweet
with a commercial feel
and the contract was sealed
against those expansive dreams
we stacked up like pawns
consumed in our pondering
we waited till morning

until the gray clouds
passed over the bright moon
we slept in cold sheets and
drank in those dark perfumes
behind the lacy curtains
tied to those twisted trees
were these forgotten ghosts
wrapped in our silly schemes

but we stared into the field
and there was no way back home
from the secrets that had
once turned us to stone
what monsters had we
unearthed from beneath the grave
outsiders yet to have seen
what greed can do to a man

tonight we sit in our rooms
draped in the crimson light
staring out into the hypnotic skies
waiting for the day it ends
whispers from our familiars
who walk to and fro in the halls
now empty dust and echos
with robin's hair walking on eggshells

we sit on our happy beds
consuming crackers and jam
as the dark outweighs the light
waiting for a skeletal moon
to pass her hands and wipe us away
to pass her hands and heal the day
from the house of midnight
the house where we used to play
and now in their name we pray, Amen