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Summary
the house breathes
wrong—
each inhale a splinter,
each exhale dust.the walls remember
hands that swore they ruled,
and still do.he thinks he's the master of everything.
(he isn't.)there’s laughter between the boards,
low, wet, patient.
something that waits
to be obeyed.the hunter forgets
what he was hunting.control rots quickest
in the hands
that think they hold it.