You would have to be
tone deaf
or at least
misunderstood
not to notice
the tendrils
have started their climb
up the crumbling
threadbare
brick walls
that hold up
a discomforting
edifice. Usually
it takes another
week or two
before they become
observant
to the naked eye.
But were it not
for my scarce
intonation
you would be
oblivious, still
clinging
onto the notion
that buildings
are susceptible
to decay, without
intervention
on the part
of intrusive nature.
I guess it’s just
like you to think
our mediocre
reconstructions
of the house
first given us
would not be
overtaken
by the image
first in line, that is
the unspeakable
reference
to discernible
diurnal discourse.
If I said
it was spring,
would you at least
put down
those blinders,
and pretend
you’ve never stepped
within those walls
without retreat
to a source
before the stone
was rolled back?
Tendency
