“Down on the Old House” – poem by Christopher Goudreau


I’ve heard this town is nailed together

The pine in its winter loving for the frost

Where outside the border springs but heather

And inside this house stands forever to the bone


Behind me this town is framed a victim

The seeds are drying in the moments sowed     

The fall is fall if only for the summer

But when it comes pray tell you’re not alone


Beneath me this town is late in speaking

Words in tongues half spoken in a way

But down here they don’t know what they’re seeking

Not ever wanting to see their portraits hung up on the phone


Now I’ve known for quite a while that it’s been fading

Telling jokes and stories of the years gone by

About how they watched the world from their windows

In the corporeal bleached essence of their homes


Beside me stands this town and this old house

Remembering long lost love or death in stowed

But leave me by theses pines for they are frozen

Down on the old house, forever to the bone


(Note: the photo is from crippledcollie.com)


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