Invisible House Of America

Invisible House Of America
© Surazeus
2018 10 29

All alone in the invisible house
I touch the ghost of her absence to feel
flashing hunger of her vanished desire
reconstruct meaning of love we designed.

One hundred million houses where ghosts live
sea to shining sea crumble into waves
of change when they come home from work each day
with fewer dollar bills for the same work.

Whole cities of abandoned houses wait
for their spirits to return with the wind
so they only sing with indifferent rain
that writes their stories with water on glass.

At dawn I knock on the numberless door
of each invisible house in the land
to ask the owner without face of glass
how they now like the American Dream.

I see their shadows on the writhing walls
when I walk through rooms empty of their souls
and I can hear their voices in the halls
explaining how they could not escape it.

I mold idols of their faces from mud
and put candles where they eyes once dreamed love
but statues of their hopes stand paralyzed
in the invisible house of the world.

The picture frames of their souls on blank walls
reveal nothing certain about their hopes
when they gave up after going bankrupt
and drove away into the windy night.

Still, here I am, staging my secret life
in the invisible house of America
where only Death will sit with me and talk
about the beauty of sunlight on water.