Boarding house

Boarding house

There is a vacancy

It lies behind the eyes

Which seem to stare into space

Over the top of the glass

The head tilted back

The mouth wide

Almost as if the top half

Of his head was unhinged

To allow the overflow

To dribble down his shirt collar

He is surrounded by

Bodies who don’t see him

They are too busy

Trying to find their own way through

The swamp.

Tortured individuals

Looking for a version of themselves

They lost somewhere

Before the second child

The first divorce

The worry about health insurance

A restructuring program

Resulting in the possibility

Of redundancy

An escape from the drudgery of home

The last argument

The fear of lashing out

The shame of having done so

Too many people worrying

About their appearance

To notice his discomfort

At standing alone in a crowd.

He can hear people arguing

In a shoebox on the walk home

The clash of personality

The loud baritone

The whimpering

Incessant mew.

Curtains pulled tight

Cardboard covering

A broken pane

Did something come out or go in?

He is unsure why he bothered

To go out

Until he opens the door

To the smell of cooking

Seeping out from number four

Fried onions are never good

As an air freshener.

There is a ground mist

From one end of the hall

To the other

He can’t see below his knees.

The scream of an unhappy child

The buzz of a blowfly

Trapped in an empty bottle

It was easier to get into than out of.

An unstable fall into an empty room

With yesterday's unwashed plates

Still in the sink

The stink of loneliness

Piling up in a dank corner

With the dirty socks

The indentation in the sofa

The unmade bed

A desperate history

Oozing out from damp walls

It is easy then

To remember

Why he chose to leave

Such home comforts

In the first place.