this house is my wound
shame blocks the sharing of it
no one can truly see it
i can’t even bear to take it’s true measure
of my debasement
so, i deflect with typical banter
of minor struggles
and hope for fraternal sympathy
while it sits there and waits
night after night, dark and cold,
waiting for me to do something
while i cover my ears
avoiding at all costs
the cries
of skeletons in the cupboard
- LFB 2011
