Hill House

 Poetry 19

They carved lions into the doors

to keep the spirits at bay

The daytime was never safe

At night you could hear them scream

from withdrawal and sights unseen

A bend in reality,

a hand around the neck

Choking on an ocean of sleep

as unread clocks blink oh three

Plus one

Minus one

Drip

Water drops,

leaking from the ceiling

The ocean won't hold

Horns sounding grief

Pouring through windows

dark forms tearing screens

Raking nails ripping

into wooden seams and red rooms between

Feet pounding

down staircases

Spiraling rings

Echoing dreams

Secular children's games played with the

imaginary roars

of voiceless mouths opening

milky white eyes

seeing the ocean overflowing

with a sea of drowned lions, dragged into the deep

[Inspired by The Haunting of Hill House]