Arthur Poem by Shelby Barker

The house speaks
And the walls watch over diets
and weight and stubble and nail growth
And the ceiling says
add salt
do some laundry
go back to sleep
Here comes a migraine
Here comes a temperature
There goes any chance at life
go back to sleep
Unmailed love letters are left around
for the furniture to read back to themselves
The radio turns on to avoid silence
but gets far too loud
And doorbell-rings ask
fancy some tea?
The stairway declines
Door-knocks are concerned
At the blending together and fading away -
The TV set swears it’s not lonely