My friend Michelle (the only person who reads my blogs besides my father, boo hoo) commented that a photo of me in the new house was "jumble beams holding air" which is a great start to a poem. Here goes. Thanks, M.
A Remodel Nightmare
Where I live is no longer there –
roof ripped up, walls ripped down,
jumbled beams holding air –
a house’s privacies laid bare
to anyone who happens by from town.
Where I live is no longer there.
No bed, no piano, no window, no chair.
Ghosts of blankets, ghost of gown,
only jumble beams holding air.
Up along disfigured stairs
I step, gutters sag like a widow’s frown,
where I live. No longer there:
a place for me to brush my hair
a room to echo with my sounds.
Jumbled beams holding up the air
don’t look that much as if they care.
Safety and chaos now must share
where I lived, but am no longer there –
just a jumble – beams holding air
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