the house

a poem

it seemed a plausible place
rooms aplenty and that Spanish wall
with its groin-clenching overlook
stones round as stacked heads
hardwood tongued and grooved
brickwork over the cellar’s mouth
rooms for coy young women
trifling between eyes and keyboards

work and the instability of desire

then the bricks tumbled at a touch
knocking along the loose stairs
the cobweb doors with smeared glass
the misaligned jambs and latches . . .
beneath the wooden floors lay
cardboard instead of plywood sheath
hell!
a leg could punch right through
I could finger the floor’s soft spaces
like the bottom of a spoiled apple
just imagine!
that ten-foot fall between the joists
nails stood up like dragon spines
trained on your unprotected flesh

there was an altar
and a toy stuffed lamb
and five burning men
and three burning women
and hecklers looking at their watches
and hindered breath
on a sweaty pillow