wake late dull tightly conscious
reality constant slips in disrupts
startles characters at play
on my unconscious stage
who dash off into hiding fluttering
rim crumbles beneath the leaden
weight of the new neighbor’s
yellow porch lights on all night
every night as if to ward off
what drove mother and wife
to suicide mere weeks before
desperate home buying moving
in a dazed purple rush fragmented
planting of new starts hoping
spring’s gushing blush grants
green shoots push through fertile
slate ashes sodden by myriad tears
stifled violet sobs hidden away
in the silent house not yet a home
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