Attic windows with spider web cracks
and eyes black as night.
A woman looks for her heart in a moving box.
Some man is on the roof with a hammer.
He is nailing the last of their dried children
where the rain gets in.
They have years to go
before dementia proves fatal
so they waddle back and forth
filling in the silences with hope
and everything they’ve forgotten.
Kudzu has climbed over the fence
and the neighbors don’t care.
Even when the dinosaurs
were laying eggs in the swamp
it was like this, a desire
for an unbearable silence.
The smell of a freshly gutted fish
leaks out into the yard.