Here, the roaches
climb the walls
here, the rugs
are old & sullied
...
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My husband has an uncle like your poem, he remembers enough to know that he is missing a lot of his memories, and it makes him very sad. To loss pieces of yourself, a little bit at the time sounds very frightening. A very powerful poem.
sounds like the onset of total senility in a person. I don’t really feel that houses have feelings! “roaches” up the walls? I wouldn’t wish that on any person; well, maybe a few who REALLY have misbehaved! and YOU? /the speaker fear that you too will be forgotten by the “house”. right? but it seems, if I’m understanding this correctly, that a more appropriate title might be “The House of Forgetting”. thanks for sharing. I shall be pleased to place this in my upcoming JULY showcase on my PH site. good to hear back from you! how’s the hair? ? bri :)
This is aptly creepy. At first I thought of the house as a victim of time, then it seemed sentient as it began discarding things of value to human, at the end the house seemed actively malign. And HOME is supposed to be our safety zone! The place we go to escape such set backs. Where do we go when HOME itself betrays us? ?
Just Just read this poem on Bri's July showcase. Loved it. Thank you for sharing this beautiful poem.