Out the Window

our house was three rooms
with slanted floors.
condemned walls let
in their malicious whispers
and rain worked hard
to penetrate the roof.

there were only outside doors
and when I say you could hear
everything,
I mean the tension
which struck out
when it began.

at first a few splats
through sodden shingles,
into constant drip
drop filling my attic bed
sigh, turn over
they’re at it again.

they fought all night
and I would glide
over the rough edge of sleep
until it was well sanded
and cut to touch.

by the time I bolted
the front door
and backed away
I could sleep
through even the house collapsing.

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