![]() SHIRLEY JACKSON; A Light Upstairs This house is empty But hardly unexplored - Something lives aloft. The fat lady’s afraid because She cannot climb She sits and eats like a lonely child At a birthday, a cat along each shoulder. She lifts the tarot card and listens. Is that her heart gasping in its womb of flesh? She fears cars and crowds and planes Elevators and department stores - Reads only stories where killers Are pursued, writes only tales Where innocents are stoned. It’s hereditary. The angry villagers once burned Her grandpa’s house. She smokes anyway, lighting repeat matches in This unsafe mansion where None escape alive.
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September 2022
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