crawlspace

okay, I’ve let myself out

And wait for the door to close

before I turn around

If I try to return

Press my nose to the door crease

My ear to the peephole

My eye to the handle

And hand to the ground.

pray to the porch at night

my plank angels bless me till sleep

and if I wake in the dirt

I’ll remain

If I wake in the dirt

I’ll remain.

Watch for the cracks in the crease

the fissuring concrete

stays solid, asleep

as I dig and subvert and tunnel through dirt

lay my bones below bedframes

and stare into crawlspace.

Looking straight to god

Through springs and floorboards

Staring straight into grace

Under floundered foundations.