Here's a new poem. Comments welcomed.
Rock Island House
I dreamt of a great flood,
on the way to your old house,
the one in Rock Island.
Water was replacing
everything: the brick road,
gone. The floorboards inside,
gone. I wandered around
looking for you, water to my
knees. Not even a ghost of you
remained.
Horrible things floated:
doll head, dead cat, carving
knife. I smelled the smell
of death and wanted to leave.
But I could not leave,
something held me to the house.
Some circular force, some ghost.
Then I heard your voice
coming from the dining room
and there you laid on the table,
naked and crying.
You said, today is the day,
tonight will be the night.
Take down the door and run.
I reached for you and your skin
turned green and suddenly
you were gone. I opened
the back door to a field
of lavender and I ran.
