‘Spin Off’ of CarousEl by Jan D. Hodge - House
why
is this house so still in my mind
but when I see it clearly it is not? the bricks don’t
move though the paint may peel and the glass might smash it is sure to
stay in the exact same spot is it not? last night I dreamt I went to manderley
again but the house I came across was not like that at
all as it was high up on a hill and battered by the
wind and withered to its frame and stripped to its bones with no one inside
but my voice echoed anyway as I tried to understand why this house had
been left to decay for it was once a part of me and I could see
myself reflected in its yellowness and why does it now
resemble satis house? i question the thorns and the weeds that spiral like gustav
and peer through hostile spikes whose paint is curling
like rumpelstiltskin’s fingernails supported by jutting
stones and ancient slabs like elsinore shot in black and white
and strict architectural beams that slice through ceilings
and doors left open and windows broken and dust an inch
thick too dense to clean and I scream into nothingness
because this house seems so far away