Poetry

Daniel

by David Orr

On the day we moved in, the pings, bumps, and snaps

Were scary, it's true, but probably normal;

A house accepting new patterns of weight

With protest, the way no conviction goes gently.

We laughed a little, and called it "our spirit."

Later that night, when the power conked out

And the kids were crying, the ghost got a name,

"Daniel," and a history of whispered exploits,

All of them harmless, like nursery rhymes,

Or like the little fibs we tell ourselves

To explain why this or that has led to suffering.

Pretty soon, we were using him for everything.

When the Christmas tree fell, it was "Daniel";

When my wife lost her ring, it was "Daniel";

When the kids forgot to feed the goldfish

And it turned up dead, its eyes silvered over

Like water shadowed under sheets of ice,

Well, that became Daniel too, which was curious;

And pauses me now as I make the long walk

Down the hall to the bathroom in darkness,

And hear, in soft concert, the sound of my footfalls

Answered at once by my children's voices

Still calling to Daniel behind their door.