reluctance but more
it is a hovel now, due to the work of a poltergeist
once a home, it is plunked in the middle of despair
the copper wiring was pulled out ten years ago
it is a vacated domicile which probably still house the jokester
no one has been inside for years; too many horror stories
We approach it from the east; in the background we see orange
at first I think there must be electricity, then I realize it is sun up
surely the poltergeist is gone, my companion says.
His voice is smiling, I can hear it.
He does not believe in malarky
There is an ambiance about this shanty I cannot describe
a feeling that has no name; I walk a bit slower now
reluctance is the closest name I can come up with
yet it is not enough; terror and fear and reluctance
I decide not to go inside; feeling the entity is still there
waiting with sharp teeth, ready to climb on my back
I fear he will return to my home and turn it into a lean-to
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