I live in the house of the child
where the windows are open, the doors ajar
to welcome the voices of spirits and strangers
stranger things brought once again to life.
she holds a supernatural grip on my expectations for sanity
choosing to embrace the voices of ghosts, it is hypnotic
I must say, as they sing—
so much so I am unable to dance
to the sound of any other song, give music to a new life.
“baby every couple does their own dance. they make it work.”
(growing into a familiar body of mistakes.)
physical space. dancing with the same ghosts
fancying unrequited love.
oh, the human, so weak, so fragile, like me
kindling the repetition of history
the fall of the empire is bound to come—
dance, dance again
before my sullen, clumsy crash.