Rainbows At 4am

there are rainbows at 4am, created by
an electric outlet and water
from the bathtub someone left
unattended or purposely misused-

it makes paths through the house
tiny rivers leading into
the living room where they
collect in one giant puddle
that seeps now into
the carpet and kitchen tile
where we used to huddle beneath
the table during summer storms
that never stayed as long as
we would of liked them to.

if I look into the mirror
I’ll become lost in the translation of nostalgia-
more ghost like until time and
the preconceived notions of me
disperse into the atmosphere-
that surrounds the fireplace
that hasn’t been lit in 15 years-
we should have sealed the chimney off,
every December is allows the house
to be filled with wind and ash;
the remnants of life when it once
dwelt within this sanctuary- and
if you walk these halls you’ll hear
laughter from a parallel universe and
if you venture up there-
the attic will tell you:
life used to live here.

by Amberlee Carter

Comments (3)

Strong poem, very touching.
Another powerful touching poem!
I liked the last 2 lines particularly, Amberlee. fresh language throughout. nice work.