Is somewhere to climb to 

where the light’s 

weak in its reach

and not just, as in modern McMansions,

another furnished floor.

There should be 

 

startlingly aerial 

dormer vistas

and an unvisited 

stowed-away clothes mustiness, 

a seasoning of stuff 

used by dead people, 

 

preferably babies,

like the pram with cycle-sized wheels 

and wide steering bar,

a knitted blanket 

perfect for decomposing in, 

which makes me wonder 

 

whether along with their other modernizations

the plastic surgeon and his wife 

who bought the house 

from my parents in 2000

ever got the haunt out, 

if not the vulture views.

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