If These Walls Could Talk

If these walls could talk they’d tell of dreams
that came here to die
a young woman who outlived her husband
and left with three children to raise alone
married a widower with five of his own

Who found strength to wash mountains of clothes
feed them, send them off to school
but could not find enough love to go around

If these walls could talk
they’d color the night with blood
from three more babies
born in the kerosene light of the east room

If these walls could talk they’d tell of the night
he lifted the bottle of carbolic acid to his lips
the shame of sending the eldest to fetch the pharmacist
They’d tell of her face, void of emotion
her ambiguity about the outcome
her resignation

If these walls could talk they’d tell of her shame
as she sent the eldest two away to live with an aunt
the relief she felt with two less to feed
two less to hate

If these walls could talk
they’d choose silence instead
and weep for lost hope