Your house has only three hung paintings?
So I was right
There are things alive in your walls
And you think you know the sound of the air conditioning
But they’re crawling and scraping and grinning
By now you can surely note
That the edges of your reality—
Yes stand just like that and look straight ahead
—They are pulling apart like an unfastened tarp
In the North Sea
And between the folds
There is blackness like frostbite
Your eyes don’t deceive you like your mistress
And turning off the lights
Can only make the walls hungrier
Doors have larger eyes than windows
And you’re a better fool than a window
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