Dewdrop Inn

They said, We own it.
So there, that’s settled,
And so were they, puns

And all. This would be
Their permanent stay,
Indefinite grant

To occupy part
Of the past as if
Only visiting.

Step out. Look around.
The narrow tarmac
Between the ghost woods,

Everyone murdered
To get here. No one
Left but the owners,

The hosts, the new hosts
On the old, drowned coast,
Their empty hotel

Next to the warning
Sign for tsunami
Evacuations.

Decades ago, when
Poems tried different things,
When both right and wrong

Those tricksters, would come
Down to the glassed-in
Hothouse swimming pool

Behind the inn, join
The deer in sneaking
In, eager, nervous,

Unaware how soon
They would fail to make
The key decision,

And begin to change.
They said, We own it,
But they kept going

And forgot to sign
The precise papers
That would have let them

Stay—Now they’re too old.
The inn is still there,
But they didn’t stay.