while the dead grow in his basement like weeds

my enemy
is alive and well 
​and living in a house
in new jersey
just kidding he lives
in some bum fuck 
town in vermont
not far from a cemetery 

my daughter
is under his roof now
while the dead 
grow in his basement
like weeds
she lays asleep in bed
thinking he can keep her
safe

this fool who isn't
even funny enough to wear bells
doesn't know the dead
are crawling his walls
watching his every move

his joy is 
arsenic and aspirin
and my pain
is alive with the dead
all their hopes buried
in graveyard dirt

i don't mind digging
in the middle of the night
my sadness calls to them
and they come

bringing gifts
from the abyss

i whisper to them
that they matter
and their stories
fall like pennies
at my feet

i cry for them
because they are me
and I am them

spirits i call to you
to watch over my child
one day she will hear your
stories like i do

keep my daughter from danger
keep her from lies
keep her from the end that
is so close to here

and i promise
to hear your stories
until I am gone

dead friends
descend upon me
whisper to me
the secrets of the universe
and i will hold you in the night
​
i will be you dark mother
i will be your home