The House on Heck Avenue. By Cord Moreski

Nobody in town seems to remember    

the people who used to live here.   

The chimney has gone through the roof    

and the broken front steps lead    

to a torn screen porch that looks   

like some forgotten burial ground.    

   

One evening when I was a kid 

I sneaked inside and searched around.  

But all I found was a Bible with a broken spine    

and a bottle of Johnnie Walker    

shattered on the living room floor.   

   

There the only light    

in the entire house vanished   

into the night through a crack    

of a boarded picture window    

as if it was never going to return again.   

As if hope itself was a constant reminder    

of the one that got away.

Cord Moreski is a poet from New Jersey. His work has been featured in As It Ought To Be Magazine, The Silver Birch Press, The Pangolin Review, Philosophical Idiot, Eunoia Review, The Rusty Truck Press, and several other publications. He is currently working on a new project for late 2020. You can follow Cord here: https://www.cordmoreski.com