Listen to Brother

Listen because I am the only grown up left.
Listen because this house’s bones are bending,
load-bearing wall,
sagging, groaning, hungry.
Listen because the rust-water comes,
leaky piped, bile pools,
streaking nursery walls,
baby waking wet.
Listen because Mother and Father will not wake,
try as we have to rouse them
From opulent slumber.
Listen because daylight has dwindled and night is long.
Because the boil-man is calling at the front door.
Because the kitchen is barren,
bereft over bygone revelry
and nostalgia will not sustain us.
Listen
Listen because the closet door is cracked to midnight,
its shaded monster beckons,
and I must follow to its shadow home.
Listen
The stray lonely socks long for salvation;
The cobwebs laden with skin sing sorrowful;
The attic ghosts dance and shake,
the brittle weight buckling foundation’s corners,
collapsing walls like jaws
until you too are a part of its waste.
Listen
Listen to brother:

The house that loved our father does not love you enough
to leave you undigested in the maw.
Do not believe its straining decor,
masking mold and mockery.
Unlatch the gate and leave comfort.
Cast yourself from grace,
and stroll sober through the garden to misery.