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An Old House

Morguefile
Pellinni



i live in a house with good bones though 117 years makes        its skin sag        its insulation fray        its paint chip
i listen to its heartbeat in those last moments before sleep takes me
pine treads give a little on the stairs as you come up
lay your old bones next to mine in shifting softness


copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2018

Posted for Poets United

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