House-ghosts

The house shifts in its sleep
grumbles gently, snores and scratches;
small creatures run within its walls.

Nightsounds are amplified by darkness,
mysterious poundings of the heart of the house
clickings, clacketings of its internal working,

breath of its breathing, echoes of former occupants’
grief and love-making absorbed into its plaster
exhaled under cover of night.

Some of the ghosts have come along with me:
the fingers of a sinewed worker’s hand,
which rub my back in comfort,

A girl’s voice, singing far off
and unaware of listeners,
echoes in the dark.