Infested Sestina


Infested Sestina

here i sit in this old

house it moans and creaks

maggots seep through walls, infesting,

crawling on broken wood.

this Place, It is haunted,

left to the lingering dead.


the halls are. the walls are—dead

fragrant must lingers for old

times of domestic bliss, not haunting

cries of sorrow and condemned creaks.

under laminate planks are rotten woods

with roaches a’ nest and casual to infest.


a down-payment It was, just for this infest.

for possibly a marriage left for dead.

carefully laid, a glossy wood

turned to cracked, sagging, and old

beams that give and creak.

when a presence walks upon—hauntingly.


it’s late. i, awake… listening to Its haunt

alone in the bed we infest

with eyes open to every creepy creak.

when i wake, will you be dead

like all the rest? to be old,

to die and become one with rotten wood.


somewhere, a yellowed wooden

panel is graced by Its haunt.

leaving you with an old

fear. It rolls in your throat, infesting

your brain with child-hood terror – dead.

stories are heard with each sickening creak.


so, listen to the cries and creaks

feel the icy, trembling wood

smell the spirits, see the dead.

understand why It haunts

and calm the infestation

for you are soon to be dead too


lost in time. lost in the old

days of joy and infesting

love…forever doomed for the haunt.


Kelsey Mae is a 21 yr/old student at the University of North Texas; thriving poet, poised ballerina, and plant enthusiast. I enjoy watching documentaries with the subtitles on, while sipping on a smooth IPA. Edgar Allen Poe, is who I’d most like to meet and it would be great to be adopted by Dita Von Teese. I aspire to run a small publishing company and be a poor poet for the rest of my days.

Images captured by/courtesy of the author.