this house is magic

so maybe i lied for the protection
of the silent and the defenseless
when i said that only the dairy
products wished to speak to you
for since translating the misgivings
of that cream left on the counter
in the heat all day i have had
no peace from tiny voices yelling

this house is magic that i lied
everything here has a voice the stones
you stacked together want to know
if they’re going back into the trunk
and back up to the quarry
where they came from i did not
have the heart to tell them

this house is magic where the voices
of everything at once are all too much
even the ghosts of things long gone
are speaking up i hear the corduroy couch
wondering where it is i hear the bunk beds
calling tops and bottoms i hear the cream
left on the counter in the sun saying
it’s okay if you want to leave me
out it’s okay just don’t leave me
alone it says

this house is magic and i’m sorry
if i lied i didn’t quite know how
to tell you how i feel about your selling
out this place that is my warm and safe
retreat i didn’t quite know how to translate
all the tiny little voices i have come
to know and talk to by myself living
lonely in their high and secret frequencies
all those voices here it’s hard to tell you
but i’m trying now because you don’t
seem to understand because they’re frantic
shouting pleading that i translate get this
through and i will try because although
the tongues of rocks and beds and chairs
and lawns and lights and lego blocks
and memories and childhood and life
and death and sadness are all different,
in the end they cry out just the same.