The Tenants by Jonel Abellanosa

My wife and I were startled

Out of our conversation with the

Tongueless. It was the loud metallic

Banging of the screen door.

 

So scared was I my rush to the

House from the acacia’s knotted

Arm buoyed what seemed 

Weightlessness, my gaze pulled up

 

As my bare feet touched the earth. 

The moon, like a melting sacramental

Wafer. The wind, rustling. Mounds 

Of brown leaves, stirring.

 

A virago’s black words shrouded

The obese man’s gray silence.

And I thought to myself,

Would disturbances be our lot again?

 

This is the fifth couple in two years.

Either my wife and I go back to the

Cemetery, or we let them constantly 

Hear what they wouldn’t see.

 

Either we distance ourselves for

The length of their stay, or we 

Lift their bed and wake them sweating,

Frightened and deciding at last to leave. 

Jonel Abellanosa resides in Cebu City, the Philippines.  His poetry has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies. His chapbook, “Songs from My Mind’s Tree,” and full-length poetry collection, “Multiverse,” are forthcoming from Clare Songbirds Publishing House. He is a Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net and Dwarf Stars Award nominee.