Fall 1994 • Vol. XVI No. 4 Poetry |

The Dark Old House

Before you can begin to haunt the place yourselfyou must have lived there a while in your imagination fretting over the basement's dampness and why there are those crumbles of wood in the attic wondering about the campground down the road and whether it would be wise to own a handgun It looms on its hill like the House of Usher like how much of the rest of your life                you dread to think You must ask yourself if you would like to die there then flush your answer down the drain and say yes I'll buy it because it has the basic essentials A working furnace, drinkable water, large trees a river that drowns out the sound of the traffic a hill nearly too steep to climb and at least an acre of grass to mow With an equivocal smile the lawyer hands you a pen

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