Saturday, January 27, 2024

The Viewing - Jan 27 2024

 

The Viewing

Jan 27 2024


Mould bloomed on the ceiling

like a creeping black malignancy.

Bloom, because it's alive,

like a deadly plant

that flowers enticingly.


It had a perverse beauty

that fascinated me

and I couldn't pull my eyes away.

Like the compulsion to jump

when you’re standing on a precipice

peering over the edge,

a terrible femme fatale

men cannot resist.


Not to mention the musty stench

behind the closet doors,

the mildew in the basement

tainting the stale damp air

with its wet sock smell.


So I could barely breathe.

And wondered

if there were dead bodies

under the concrete foundation,

whether the basement would flood

in a wet spring,

if I’d be on the hook

for taxes owing.


Nevertheless, she said it had good bones,

a little fixer-upper

handyman’s dream;

which is real estate for money-suck

and sinkhole.


The little house of horrors,

where someone actually lived

before it was sold

and burned for the insurance.

Bad wiring, they claimed

short circuit.


Spores of toxic mould

billowing off

in clouds of greasy smoke,

seeding the world

with a black poison

impossible to kill.


I noticed a little mould where the counter meets the wall. The air conditioner was dripping quite heavily there, and I would often let the wetness sit too long. It reminded me of that unpleasant little rental from years ago, as well as the mildew I used to have in the basement. So the first line was a natural. And from there, it was just the usual stream of consciousness. Which feels more like automatic writing than it does focused creativity: I'm as surprised where it ends up as the reader!


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