An Old Shack in the East End

An Old Shack in the East End


Houses like this,
don’t exist,
but come.

Your tour
will last the time
it takes
to draw,
inhale,
and exhale
and throw your butt
at the door.

It’s dark inside,
like an East End
night by gas lamp,
and it sits
on a hospital,
where
in days
long since passed
contagious ill
were nursed
to death.

Tip
toe
and travel
between rooms,
knocking
and opening doors,
and let secrets flood
into the hallway.

Then stop still.

The only way out
is by stepping stones
of truth,
each one showing
cold and dank
history of residents
gone.
Centuries preserved
in the tainted glow
of starlight,
bursting
like a new day
struggling for survival
against the need
for the revival of
way back when.

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