November 6, 2008



We take the little boat to the other side
And have to walk through woods
To reach an old cabin
Filled with arachnids

It begins to rain
And everything drips
I will not know if it is done
Until hours after it has stopped

The steps to the porch have rotted
I must be careful
Up into the house
Of my early memories

The water is smarter than we are
It has found more than one door into the cabin
Pots and pans ring when catching the drip
I stay up all night listening to the bells

The fireflies don’t appear

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