Nights Our House Comes to Life
Some nights in midwinter when the creek clogs
With ice and the spines of fir trees stiffen
Under a blank, frozen sky,
On these nights our house comes to life.
It happens when you're half asleep:
A sudden crack, a fractured dream, you bolting
Upright – but all you can hear is the clock
Your great-grandfather found in 1860
And smuggled here from Dublin for his future bride,
A being as unknown to him then as she is now
To you, a being as distant as the strangers
Who built this house, and died in this room
Some cold, still night, like tonight,
When all that was heard were the rhythmic clicks
Of a pendulum, and something, barely audible,
Moving on the dark landing of the attic stairs.
2 comments:
that is a scary poem
and it captures that eerie feeling of the dead stillness of the below zero night. the loud cracks the house makes reminds you of how vulnerable you are to the extreme, elements
m
I love this one, Meghan. Thanks for sharing.
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