Abandoned house, are there
only spiders and rodents
residing amid your rooms?
I see my distorted image
upon the fogged glass
of the old storm door,
and feel like a prowler,
appraising the value of items
upon your walls
or tucked in your corners,
when, in truth, I seek
to rekindle precious memories
and reconstruct pictures
the recent days
have begun to obscure,
events the rain of years
are washing away,
remembrances,
trickling indiscernibly
through the pitted window
of my mind’s eye
as I rap my fist
against the glass,
hoping the ghosts will answer.
Michael Keshigian, from New Hampshire, is a musician, writer, runner published in numerous national and international journals most recently including Red River Review, Blue Pepper, and Tipton Poetry Journal, appearing as feature writer in over a dozen publications with 6 Pushcart Prize and 2 Best Of The Net nominations. (michaelkeshigian.com)
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