Ghosts twitter in my head like the memory of predawn birds.
Digging below my present house I find
a structural supportive past with rock veins to be mined.
Upstairs the future isn’t fully built or roofed.
Has someone goofed?
The Architect is vague on final thirds.

*****

I am finding many ways to say I don’t understand existence at all; this is one of them.

This short, semi-formal poem was published recently in The Lyric.

Photo: “unfinished house” by Lodigs is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.