LINGERING GHOSTS

I wonder what Edith’s doing,
if Floyd still tunes her out.
If other next door neighbors
are plagued and having doubts.

The flashbacks overwhelm me,
create a cold despair.
The houses I turned into myself
are neither here nor there.

Rooms are empty caverns
with echoes bouncing back.
I scream into the darkness and hear,
I lack, I lack, I lack.

Janet Brice Parker