[U]Intruder[/U]
The damage is already done.
No one saw him coming,
The rust of banisters and briefcases,
The rust of handshakes,
The rust of the dollar on his hands
Stained deeply to the bone.
We were laid back against the wall of familiar habits.
He did not come to make friends,
Nor will he forgive our souvenirs
Dispersed on the carpet
Left floating on the shore.
Drowned,
Almost forgotten.
Until the sound of his pacing,
From the kitchen to the bedroom,
Billow and fill the entire house
With silvery see-through ribbons of light
Dancing in the corners of our eyes.
He will confess to the bed,
Asleep until the next war,
And drink the thick smells
Sour and rancid to the touch
Stained red and black and blue.
All we can do now
Is make some tea and wait
For the low hum of talk outside to rise.