The poor house tried so hard to get rid of us
uncomfortable with our stacks of moving boxes
and noisy children. Mushrooms sprouted in the basement in protest
only to be met with a bleach-soaked mop
a barrage of UV lights and floor fans.
Tree roots dug into the waterline
only to be quickly yanked out by a visiting plumber
who surreptitiously dumped a bag of blue iron crystals into the toilet
and told us “that tree” wouldn’t bother us for a while.
Ghosts tried to make themselves heard
over the children screaming as they chased each other
up and down the stairs, failed miserably
in competition with the angry old cat
and the excitable dog. They finally slunk back into the shadows
chastened by me, exhausted from fighting mold and hanging shelves
and my husband, who was too tired to notice ghosts anyway.
Eventually, all of the extra voices in the attic and the basement
died down, the shadows retreated to their corners
the spirits slunk back into the walls of our house
defeated by sheer incompatibility
of us, its new tenants.
Holly Day’s writing has recently appeared in Analog SF, Cardinal Sins, and New Plains Review, and her published books include Music Theory for Dummies and Music Composition for Dummies. She currently teaches classes at The Loft Literary Center in Minnesota, Hugo House in Washington, and The Muse Writers Center in Virginia.
Published 10/31/24