Patti Masterman Poems
A House Breathes Through Its Bones
A house breathes through its bones,
Its summits sit like sentries;
Though rafters decompose-
It never denies entry.
Its ghosts lie in their beds,
Soft earth beneath their memory;
The shutters firmly closed-
The past seen only dimly.
Don'T Try To Decode Me
Don't try to decode me;
Enter into any liberties,
Never try to read my mind,
So aloof cause you're not my kind.
You're a bore and so uncouth;
And you wouldn't know the truth
If it bludgeoned you in the eye-
And this is all more reason why