Signs of Dilapidation by JD DeHart


the old house seemed fine enough

for generations last, but now the walls

have begun to show wear

how did you do it, stuck down there

nestled among the ancient ruins

of by-gone trailing days

even the strongest wood buckling

no water, no heat, all the guilt stones

weighing down under their weary

sallow eyes, keeping secrets like bright

tangerines, by the bushel, pushed aside

their odors too rich, evocative to hide.


a black line

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