Woodview Avenue 1960

[brynmawr1]

There’s no mistaking our sins
walking the cooling asphalt at twilight                 Maybe reverse the first two lines then adjust the transition into the third.
misleading us into a summer night
with rumors of an escaped madman
who scratches at our screens with a butcher knife.  This is great

Behind a jumble of decrepit rabbit hutches
a root wrecked wall in our backyard               Like this too.
protects us from secrets sliding down the hillside.
The snake climbing through the trees
offers no promises of knowledge or power.   

We’ve always lived here, no neighbors
to know us for what we are.  We listen
to the sounds of distant radios, and watch
dancing static on a black and white TV,
imagining its patterns will tell us when it’s time:

time to flee or make a final stand
or to burn a grandmother’s tattered Bible
just to see the flames.  This is home,
but its history rejects us, disbelieving liars,
for the pain of return, luring our street away forever.           I keep wanting to end at away.

Hi TqB,
Glad to see you back.  Just some general comments above.  I think the poem would benefit from some more descriptive elements, eg what kind of "sounds", "secrets", etc.
Is this part of your historical series, based on the title?  I tried to look up the title but just got a lot of random real estate listings!
Thanks for the read.
bryn