an old pink mansion I used to pass each day on the way to my office
|WDC CRAMP for 8.22.10
Write a story or poem about a spooky house
that sits vacant
with windows broken
and shutters askew.
COUNT: 22 lines
in the pale frost of dawn-light.
Damp in your abandoned
Out of place
with your two-storied height
amid a sea of working class bungalows.
Your side-slanted door, perched
as though you once sported
a port-couchere for carriage traffic.
shutters flapping, no longer needed
to protect (missing) window glass
long since shattered
by neighborhood ruffians
looking for an afternoon’s lark.
How did you get here ,
what stories must you have hidden
lost to anonymity in this