This old house, she’s a keeper, hoarding cracks, panes and groans. Where the shadow’s stretch, there’s a fire, it cackles and spits and tears the cold down.
Where you’ve gone, I can’t follow. Where you stand, nothing’s there. ‘til I go, I cannot follow. Maybe, time will take me there.
The floorboards creak. Window’s moaning. She’s telling tales— never lies. This house— it’s telling secrets— flicks on the lights and I come undone.
Where you’ve gone, I can’t follow. Where you stand, nothing’s there. ‘til I go, I cannot follow. Let my memory take me there.
‘hind gleaming curtains. ‘mong dusty coffee cups, echoes play. Won’t leave me alone. This house, it’s growing tired, we yawn and stretch then she lays me down.
Where you’ve gone, I can’t follow. Where you stand, nothing’s there. ‘til I go, I cannot follow,
David Estringel is a Xicanx writer/poet with works published in literary publications, such as The Opiate, Azahares, Cephalorpress, Lahar, Poetry Ni, DREICH, Somos En Escrito, Ethel, The Milk House, Beir Bua Journal, and The Blue Nib. His first collection of poetry and short fiction Indelible Fingerprints was published April 2019, followed Blood Honey and Cold Comfort House in 2022. David has written three poetry chapbooks, Punctures (2019), PeripherieS (2020), and Eating Pears on the Rooftop (2022). His new book of micro poetry little punctures will be released in December 2022. Connect with David on X @The_Booky_Man.
