security system

we are not safe.
every window is an opporutnity 
for knowing or passcoding or
prayerbook. the holy water
full of eels. mailing a letter
to a dead boyfriend.
he used to climb in through
the chimney & say,
"nothing could keep me
from you." the line between
horror & love is a wooden bridge.
i put wires in the door frames.
lit fires beneath doorknobs.
a dead bolt. a bolted dead.
lock the front door with
a parable. there was once
a boy who let everyone in
until he lived in a house
crowded by ghosts.
not every thought should be
a guest. but they ate pillows 
& used up the toilet paper.
wrote their names in blood
on the mirrors. washing over
& over. the boy tried so hard
to be clean. finding a mouse
living in a keyhole. 
he left the house & slept
on a park bench with the crows 
laughing above him. ate street signs.
his throat said, "stop stop."
no stopping. left the house door open
& so more came & he watched
from the road. everything is ripe
in june. a bowl of keys.
a strawberry. knots in the old wood.
but is alright. it is okay.
cameras are watching
the bushes for rustling. there is
a thumb print machine ready to 
print a labyrinth of your  
spiraling mazes. nothing happens 
without someone seeing it.
at least not here. at least not
anymore. i go out into the yard
& watch the empty house.
light a candle & the cameras say,
"it is just you." relief rushes over me.
i go back inside & thank 
my wandering technology.

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