Phantom Limbs

There is a corpse in my attic

He moves in dreams

He moves

he is me

My thought to be was done

and done again

A faded shirt and stricken years his shroud

Through dirty window It is pain and quiet I see

In moments slow

I look through the glass

there is no corpse in my attic

outside there is sunset and green grass

It is always the weekend

a lawn that is never mowed and laughter inside the walls

The mother-in-law reminds me to - Mind The Eyes Of Neighbors

But there are egg rolls and tequila and my wife inside

my love -put the worry down

my love put the world -down

The paint on my front door is fading

Summer has taken its due

Inside it is fall

The foliage never changing

Overstuffed couches claimed by cats’ claws

Wear their scars with matronly pride

Dusty books slumber at the edges

Of a dozen layers of paint

And in the middle a table waits

it holds our fingerprints and ash

untroubled by coffee and spilled ketchup

we gather around

a love reflected in daughters’ eyes

the time is

sound

a conversation in harmonize

a home

my god, a home

for me undeserving

and my thoughts, for sleep steal, veil my eyes

when dreams arise

it doesn’t care to bring reality

logic is gravity in the void

and the touch of my love

an anchor

an anchor

an anchor!

But I am rust by my closing eyes

And so easily make dust of the chain

so I drift

where the moonlight is brighter

and illuminates the darker truths

It is the reflection of light to a world that has turned its back to the sun

For just a time, for just a night

In its cast the attic window is clean

My corpse is wearing a Jansport backpack

Korn and slipknot advertise their relevance in permanent marker

Over the tattered cloth

The present is twenty years gone

A ghost with incorporeal fingers

Holding the tears I’ve forgotten

In the bones of my home

It is an echo, a phantom limb

so I can wake up now

And live

Safe

In my home