Street Hovel by Sterling Warner

Mold & mildew scar scarecrow appendages
tossed in gardens, scattered along gravel walkways
where fungi push aside pebbles, their flat heads
and round crowns absorbing nutrients from decay.

Cars slice sheets of water, hydroplane across lanes,
pump hydraulic brakes—dripping, overheating
Michelin Evertread impressions zig-zagging
across thoroughfares, up driveways, down cul-de-sacs.

Emerald blades perforate damp April soil
foxtails & dandelions bend in the breeze
seed like calling cards seeking proliferation
advantage, unconscious of the abandoned house.

Phantom faces peer through gothic windows,
glass cracks spreading like spider webs;
vehicle headlights illuminate its pitchy interior
like handheld lanterns carried back and forth within.

Woodpeckers hollow out eves, lining them
with feathers, dry foliage and twigs sheltered
from the elements, ready to nest oblivious
to the redwood porch gone silver, autumn’s light waning

or knee-high grass encroaching on cobble stone paths
sneaking beneath the deck chocking cement piers
& posts with yellow fingers of steel-like straw
reducing remnants of the haunted dwelling to dust.

Author, poet, educator, Sterling Warner’s works have appeared in journals and anthologies including Danse Macabre and Stardust Review. Warner’s creative collections include Rags & Feathers, Without Wheels, Edges, Serpent’s Tooth, Flytraps and Masques: Flash Fiction & Short Stories.  Currently, Warner writes, hosts readings, and enjoys Washington retirement.