Play Aunt Sally

The howling banshees of our minds and our homes Those haunted fairgrounds of memory Littered with bits of castoff joy and laughter The confetti of merrymakings’ abandonment Creaking floorboards of absent feet The laughter of lost lovers departed All calling out from the brutal silences That come upon us like a heavy morning fog And then there is your smile Dispelling these mists With rum scented sunshine Bursting forth from your lips Each kiss, lighting up my mind With music and carnival barkers All their verbal thrusting narcissism Calling me out, tempting me “Play a round of Aunt Sally and Win your gal a prize!" But I fear their booths are lined With stuffed dolls Soft and beautiful beneath the lights That, once home Grow quickly stiff and tattered and worn Will be the future demons Of my silent brooding

#orjay #speakpoetry Music credit to MORPHINE : Miles Davis' Funderal