an apparition on a backroad,

mosseaten, greenrotten, feralhome.

sagging under the watch of the tennessee sun, 

half-lost in the leering hills and persistent oaks.

the windows are just empty panes now

the doors drifts open and closed in a listless loop.

mockingbirds and sparrows nest in its rafters,

squirrels store nuts in its cupboards.

homeowners too preoccupied to notice

the slow death of their summer home. 

the roof is already bowing under the stress,

giving into the demands of time and neglect.

one storm from rubble and splinters,

the abandoned house says over and over—

soft enough to be the wind

or the creak of its boards—

I was important.

I was important.