House written by J C Thomas at



written by: Jenny Thomas



why is this house so still in my mind

but when I see it clearly it is not? the bricks don’t

move though the paint may peel and the glass might smash it is sure to

stay in the exact same spot is it not? last night I dreamed I went to manderley

again but the                  house I came across was not              like that at

all as it was                    high up on a hill and battered                  by the

wind and withered to its frame and stripped to its bones with no one inside

but my voice echoed anyway as I tried to understand why this house had

been left to decay for         it was once a part of me            and I could see

myself reflected in                its yellowness and                    why does it now

resemble satis house? i question the thorns and the weeds that spiral like gustav

and peer through hostile                                      spikes whose paint is curling

like rumpelstiltskin’s                                          fingernails supported by jutting

stones and ancient slabs like                                  elsinore shot in black and white

and strict architectural                                             beams that slice through ceilings

and doors left open and                                           windows broken and dust an inch

thick too dense to clean                                           and I scream into nothingness

because this house                                                         seems so far away


A shaped poem in the style of Jan D. Hodge

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