security system we are not safe. every window is an opporutnity for knowing or passcoding or prayerbook. the holy water full of eels. mailing a letter to a dead boyfriend. he used to climb in through the chimney & say, "nothing could keep me from you." the line between horror & love is a wooden bridge. i put wires in the door frames. lit fires beneath doorknobs. a dead bolt. a bolted dead. lock the front door with a parable. there was once a boy who let everyone in until he lived in a house crowded by ghosts. not every thought should be a guest. but they ate pillows & used up the toilet paper. wrote their names in blood on the mirrors. washing over & over. the boy tried so hard to be clean. finding a mouse living in a keyhole. he left the house & slept on a park bench with the crows laughing above him. ate street signs. his throat said, "stop stop." no stopping. left the house door open & so more came & he watched from the road. everything is ripe in june. a bowl of keys. a strawberry. knots in the old wood. but is alright. it is okay. cameras are watching the bushes for rustling. there is a thumb print machine ready to print a labyrinth of your spiraling mazes. nothing happens without someone seeing it. at least not here. at least not anymore. i go out into the yard & watch the empty house. light a candle & the cameras say, "it is just you." relief rushes over me. i go back inside & thank my wandering technology.