House of Only

Now it’s completely over.
You spoke to my brother
about your son.
No more rumors.
When we moved into our house
it didn’t take long to find
the rats bustling in the cupboards
& brick walls. Whenever you cursed,
a rat pawed at the drywall.
Whenever you lied
the rain leeched into the basement
pooled under unpacked boxes
of miscellaneous grammar
and subjunctive wishes.
If I had just made enough
money. If I had just done
more. If Icarus had known
the properties of convection
and flew right under
the clouds. If only your eyes
remained as blue as bathwater.
The birds didn’t get stuck
in the glue traps flapping
their wings to exhaustion,
waiting to be pulverized
by a hammer again and again.
At last the skull is open
and the house is empty.

Lucas Khan is a BIPOC writer currently working on his MFA at Georgia State University and teaches Intro to Creative Writing. He writes about the human condition and is battling Multiple Sclerosis. He believes poetry is meant to connect all types of diverse people around the world. Previous publications include Penumbra, Table Review, Crabfat Magazine, Naugatuck River Review, Slipstream Press, and Underground Journal.