The walls have tongues In my father's house the walls are
talking in our sleep. At night
when bricks return the sun's heat
they absorbed all day and
at midnight the asphalt
street will burn your hand
the walls return the sounds
they've heard all day. A
creaky glossalalia my mom calls
the house settng. What will
they tell the people who live
here after my parents have
gone? Will they whisper our
secrets for years aftre our mail
is forwarded elsewhere? I'm
afraid of the night I will
hear the room whispering back
arguments in my own voice.
Is that why everyone in this
stunted runt belly of a state is
so determined to live ina
brand new house? So they
won't have to sit up awake
listening all night being reminded
hearing strangers voice familiar words
listening to strangers who used to
sleep in their rooms? It's too
quiet that way for anyone to
sleep, so they leave the tv
on to drone and perhaps after
enough years of talking-head nights
those voices wil soak up
into the walls themselves.
Imagine living in a house for
years and leaving no legacy
but a newscaster's voice. What
kind of ghost would that be?  ¶ 11:59 PM