The Thing in the Basement

February 17, 2009 at 10:02 am (Kelowna Poems, Poems)

Years later, when we are much older, I ask my cousin
about the thing that lived with them in the house on Falkirk.
Did I imagine it, or did the basement have eyes? He said they all knew
something was there, but it was good, it was protecting them.
“It scared me,” I say. He says he sometimes thought
it was grandpa, that his mom kept seeing him down there
when she went to change the laundry. “Dad,” she said one day,
“You have to leave.” I never thought it could be him, and I feel sad now.
I remember the bare light bulb hanging from a wire over Gerard’s bed,
my spot on the mattress under the hole in the wall
on the other side of the room. I see my grandfather now,
lost in his navy suit-jacket, his long arms reaching through.

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