Black Wreaths (a winter's settling)

This old house,
she’s a keeper,
hoarding cracks,
panes and groans.
Where the shadow’s stretch,
there’s a fire,
it cackles and spits
and tears the cold down.

Where you’ve gone,
I can’t follow.
Where you stand,
nothing’s there.
‘til I go,
I cannot follow.
Maybe, time will take me there.

The floorboards creak.
Window’s moaning.
She’s telling tales—
never lies.
This house—
it’s telling secrets—
flicks on the lights
and I come undone.

Where you’ve gone,
I can’t follow.
Where you stand,
nothing’s there.
‘til I go,
I cannot follow.
Let my memory take me there.

‘hind gleaming curtains.
‘mong dusty coffee cups,
echoes play.
Won’t leave me alone.
This house,
it’s growing tired,
we yawn and stretch
then she lays me down.

Where you’ve gone,
I can’t follow.
Where you stand,
nothing’s there.
‘til I go,
I cannot follow,

but I know love can take me there.

 David Estringel is a Xicanx writer/poet with works published in literary publications, such as The Opiate, Azahares, Cephalorpress, Lahar, Poetry Ni, DREICH, Somos En Escrito, Ethel, The Milk House, Beir Bua Journal, and The Blue Nib. His first collection of poetry and short fiction Indelible Fingerprints was published in April 2019, followed by Blood Honey and Cold Comfort House in 2022. David has written five poetry chapbooks, Punctures (2019), PeripherieS (2020), and Eating Pears on the Rooftop (2022) with Golden Calves and Blue scheduled for publication in 2023. His new book of micro poetry little punctures will be released in December 2022. Connect with David on Twitter @The_Booky_Man and his website www.davidaestringel.com.