Lovecraft would have seen it immediately.
But when you pointed it out to me, "Over there,
on the grey house...," I was aghast. Mocking me,
high in the eaves, fronting the street, the stare
of pure evil for all to see, carved in wood,
the hideous grimace of malevolence, raised high,
a painted emblem of the house. I could
feel the weight of that leaden sky.
From what deep wounds comes this ferocity?
What does this omen speak? Your face, a mask,
offered no clue. The veiled world silently
turned away. And so I did not ask,
but inwardly felt how this menace darkened our day.
Quickening the pace, we hurried on our way.