Now you hear what the house has to say.
Pipes clanking, water running in the dark,
the mortgaged walls shifting in discomfort,
and voices mounting in an endless drone
of small complaints like the sounds of a family
that year by year you've learned how to ignore.
But now you must listen to the things you own,
all that you've worked for these past years,
the murmur of property, of things in disrepair,
the moving parts about to come undone,
and twisting in the sheets remember all
the faces you could not bring yourself to love.
How many voices have escaped you until now,
the venting furnace, the floorboards underfoot,
the steady accusations of the clock
numbering the minutes no one will mark.
The terrible clarity this moment brings,
the useless insight, the unbroken dark.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Insomnia by Dana Gioia )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- Steal Away, Francie Lynch
- love1, andy pierce
- a little piddle, lee fones
- The Man Who Chased The Moon, Tanja Bulovic
- Exit out, J.E. Deen
- Royal Orphan, George Egba
- A poem to my dead., Tiyani Shadrack Manganya
- Crazy, lee fones
- ISIL: Think Again, Negotiate with Terror.., Rachel Nichols
- Caged In, Kerri Foxx