Nails stick through the belly of an unfinished ceiling.
They make finger marks across the floor,
like ever-frozen sundials.
Pulled from gravity’s craters,
these fingers hold the house together
and retrieve it from heaps of reconstructed material.
A naked house is the width of a city map.
These creatures are not used to light.
Every trip down the tripping-down stairs
exposes these creatures, who are distant and unfamiliar
cousins to the naked bulb,
each of whom are devoid of gloves and hats.
James Patrick Carraghan is a regular columnist for Terse Journal and contributing writer at Vada Magazine (UK). He is currently working on a perpetually evolving manuscript. His website is: https://librarynevercloses.wordpress.com/. Follow him on Twitter @Libraryboy22.