by Max Gilman '25 on October 20, 2022
Portfolio Co-Editor
Poetry
Home was becoming more of a second abode to the two.
Alice and Sam would stumble in, late hours of the night,
Sighing as they brushed their teeth in an unwanted bathroom.
Laying beside an unloved lover,
Sinking further into cohesive blindness.
Drinking was of the hour, until Alice realized it was the only thing
Barely relating the two anymore,
Besides the damned leering house.
The couple eventually gave up on the drink,
Praising the name Alcoholics Anonymous.
Around then, time slowed to a push,
Allowing them ample space for conversation.
A rekindling began,
Though—
Their distance lingered like a stale, molding odor.
Maybe it had something to do with the house they bought,
A little brown-paneled, one-floor residence,
Quaint in sight, but pungent to the nostril,
Like a forest of elder trees,
Growing older, but never dying.
Still, it lurked in the neighborhood,
Odd, still, but breathing,
Almost amphibian.
An older couple, a sickly two who never left the home,
Raised a family there,
And died on the same day,
December 24th, 1989.
Maybe it had something to do with the house they bought,
Or maybe the two were doomed to a mural parting.
No matter,
Alice always thought it was such a shame,
“So close to Christmas!” she would always say,
“Think of the responders that night. It’s terrible.”
One night while throwing himself around the bed,
Sam noticed a wooden beam staring at him,
From above.
It watched him from the ceiling,
Staring, curious,
Almost preying upon his discomfort.
It turned and sneered with a laugh,
Viewing him in new displeasurable angles.
As Sam’s spine repulsed in shock,
Chains of grandiose dread grappled the unkept mind,
Ensnaring it.
He lay like a rug, stained with marks of whimpering terror,
Praying to a god he never believed in.
Eventually, winter stole daylight.
As snow fell, floated, plummeted,
A hole grew in the roof,
Pots froze and the oven ceased a flame,
Little creatures of the creek gathered bellow white ridden cabinets,
Hugging each other, warmly and generously.
As snow fell, floated, plummeted,
Two still silhouettes hugged death like a third lover,
On December 24th, 2003.