There is a haunting to this house only I know
A collection of heirlooms too loud for the living-room wall.
Spirits in a bottle…minus a cork.
Slices of life severed with a knife.
Everyday a tour of ghastly duty…showered by the tears I cry.
An a-sexual ghost feeding off the body of the host.
Never just the forest or the tree.
Sometimes…they are more familiar to behind the scenes.
Just piney implants of somebody I used to know.
Enticing trails of northern life…gone awry.
Amid what we say…
And, the truth that we leave for another day.