House of My Childhood
Encrusted
she lies on the bottom
from time to time
I return to her tethered
weighted peering
into the gloom
a glimpse and I’m
back inside amid those
rooms un-moored from time
gripped in cold anaerobic
clutches suspended sole
source of light panning
as I scan the debris field and
poke around the artifacts
poke around the artifacts
a silent limning
a slow ascension
to avoid the bends
surface broken fathoms
above enshrined emptiness
entombed shadows of ghosts.
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