THE HOUSE ON THE CORNER
There’s a sign at the corner
Of your street and mine
It says turn back now
No crossing the line
—
But the folks from the city
All come here to find
The house on the corner
Of your street and mine.
—
There’s a carnival coming
They’ve set up nearby
They bury the reasons
So we never hear why
—
When the curtain is drawn
The children will cheer
And the man with the cane
Says there’s nothing to fear
—
But in the back of the tent
There’s a jar on a shelf
Inside which resides the
Last trace of yourself.
—
And the person you were
Is the person you’ll meet
And he’ll purchase a house
At the end of your street.
—
And when the funfair has gone
And the sun there don’t shine,
He’ll still live on the corner
Of your street and mine.
—
Oh the people they’ll come
And they’ll try to look in, though
They won’t see a thing through
The boarded up windows
—
And every so often
The wives will be certain
That they saw bloodshot eyes
Peeking through the front curtain.
—
And then in the end,
if perchance you can guess
the speak of the crows
sitting on the black fence,
—
then perhaps it is you
be the one to decipher
the language of ghosts
who have gone there to hide there
—
and in the dark places
their presence be felt
when they touch those who
on knees before them have knelt.
—
And twenty years hence
You’ll return to your bed
And find as you grew up
It grew down instead
—
For it’s true what they say
No one ever goes back
To the home where they grew
Without feeling the lack.
—
Oh the leaves in the yard
Form an ominous mound
And come spring all will speak
Of the body they found.
—
But what none knows is
That of which you are sure,
That the dead man is none other
Than who you were.
—
Oh, the people will say
That it was his time,
But you’ll know the truth
Of the horrible crime.
—
And the death of the man
Will be seen by the coroner
As the death of the house
That sits on the corner.
—
And the hollow that follows
Will come as a sign
To burn down the house on the corner
Of your street and mine.