The House Haunter

There’s nowhere to go
But into the words
You happen to have
In reach in your head.

There’s dust on the floor
That glows in the sun
And ache in your guts,
Or what you have left.

Throw the cat’s toy mouse.
Listen to someone
Bow a violin
As if determined

To prove Leonora
Carrington correct,
Some things can’t be said,
And that’s why there’s art.

Do this long enough
And your well will fill,
Or you’ll choke in dust
On words you forgot.