A Light Upstairs


This house is empty

Yet hardly unexplored –

Something stirs aloft.

The fat lady’s afraid because

She cannot climb

She sits and eats like a lonely child

Celebrating birthdays

A cat along each shoulder.

She lifts her tarot card and listens

Her own heart gasping in its womb of flesh.

She fears cars and crowds and planes

Elevators and department stores –

Reads only stories where killers

Are pursued, writes only tales

Where innocents are stoned.

It’s hereditary.

The angry villagers once burned

Her grandpa’s house.

She smokes anyway, lighting repeat matches in

An unsafe mansion where

None escape alive.

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