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Jon Tobias
Poems
Sep 2011
My House is Haunted
I sleep with the lamp on now
Only I throw a black dress shirt over it
I press my arm over my eyes
And pray that it’s only my imagination
That it’s the sound of the fan losing its pace
And not someone testing the doorknob
I pray that it’s just my fear making me realize
The actual weight of the blanket over my feet
That it’s not hands learning the curves of my skinny ankles
And then like clockwork I am awaken
To the smell of her perfume
It smells old as it lingers in my nose before fading
It is not my mother’s perfume
It is sweet and at the same time full of must
And fills my lungs with fear
Makes me hold my breath so that I cannot see it
As I feel the room suddenly get colder
I am just waiting now for a whisper
My ears are begging for it
They are on fire for a response
From the emptiness
Speaking directly to my imagination
I don’t want to see you
I don’t want to hear you
I already feel you
And the only solace I find
Is the answer to the emptiness
Existing in a world where people die
That I might one day
Breathe fear into a man
To remind him what it’s like to be a boy
In the middle of the night
When the night is ready to overtake him
When really
All I ever wanted was to remind someone
I existed
Like writing
“I was here”
On bathroom walls inside movie theaters
I was hear
And you better never forget it
Written by
Jon Tobias
San Diego
(San Diego)
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