Fog from the moon
Collapsed into an alleyway
Becomes the fragments of a skeleton
Staggering through a nightmare of a skeleton
Knocking through the dust coated boxes in the attic for a window.
Eyes rest in little puddles after light snow,
Clams drip from the ceiling
And cement keeps it all compact, leaking out
Tunnels, reservoir in the mind, the joints
Of the morning walkway
Painful house of years, little haunted
house staggering, knocking and knocking.