Hollow Hills

The windows to your soul have lost Their luster they had once attained Before cracks varnished the surface And it slid out. Listless you stand in puddles delight With nothing in mind for grating Or deprecating In light blight for your eyes remain gone. Hills have the eyes they stole From you long ago in a valley unknown Where grass never seems to grow But the sidewalk always vanishes. Chain-link fence captures fleeing Vagrants and brings them back To places they do not like With their grimy, grimy hands. Places where the hills can reach them And can trap their souls With unkempt hands and weathered, Bedraggled widows sing hymns. Prayers for you without your windows Or flaccid creatures with your souls Go unsung by the elder Who look onward with their sad, sad eyes. For the hills really do have eyes, Kept in jars and boxes Under their beds and in their closets Where they collect the morning’s dust. They watch your partings And your comings when you think Escape is your only option In these vast, hollow hills.