Ghost Fish Sailing

from by Ennet House



you pace down empty halls
the radio's on
but there's something in the low (l'eau?), waiting
when sis fell off the dock
but the beast is in the walls

reach out for something new, something fresh
other than not-another-summer-home
speak up -- the noises will drown you out
we sold the house about a month ago

rip and tide
your sister's sinking slowly

e(e)rie steam, smell your breath and give some
time to breathe and look out to the water from the
window seat. The mallards hunt for Pisces with their
waterskiis; they dive and leave when they can feel
how winter's mean. It freezes all the closets, makes the
rafters scream. You look out to the jetty:
rowboats are hiding in the weeds and shade
it's like whenever I'm out of town I'm on the lake

lead based paint chips, window screens, light switch --
blithe things soothe me
like pink erasers, electric razors
like 90's movies
the art of this, the artifice and with no
nosy neighbors
just me, the toaster,
and the ghostly sailors

the bayview, it's nothing new
can't look out the window for a
rare glimpse of Migaloo
but another beast's inside

the lake is like a lady beaten
draping over your lap
love her with your wastefulness,
a carbon footprint hickey on her neck

and if you drown yourself
maybe bubbles of your breath will disrupt the Sound
maybe, maybe
still, quiet... shoes
that tip-toed down the hall,
soulful black singers, you pricked your finger,
the fridge light's still turned on
accept the doorbell's chime
the mailman won't stay to see you
except for flighty time, the fetid lake is all that greets you
in the morning...
there's no one by...

lonely kids,
caught between a road and shoreline
nothing to do
but interbreed and drink the natural light
and lies, hosed in mouth
by the school and church that hold their heads
they feed them skin and wine
most of the kids will come back
and occupy the docks and gossip
talk about weather with the wife
but they mostly keep to themselves

dirty water, coffee grounds,
the lake disowns me
you'll give up painting, go ghost fish sailing
if you could only
find a suitable expression to
say you're lonely

just inside, you can
find yourself or someone else to
keep it right; unlike
nature, I'm inside a broken house
with dust inside, you can't
see the etchings on the mantle
be sure to write. Unlike
nature, I'm inside this broken house

whenever I'm out of town, I'm on the lake


from Sensitive Bends, released March 1, 2012


all rights reserved



Ennet House Ohio

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