giving way

 

 

 

 

 

“How long before the eaves gave way
to the sky, or the bathroom floor
was jack-hammered to bone,
while the trees outside were left
to redirect the wind?

How quickly the den must have become more kitchen
and bedrooms lost their privacy. I see the books
we’d packed up and moved years ago
under a pile of fresh rubble, still sending off dust—

titles stunned to a babble
in gold leaf.”

~ Kristen Henderson

 

 

 

 

 

 

the way home

 

 

 

 

 

“But every memory is turned over and over again, every word, however chance, written in the heart in the hope that memory will fulfill itself, and become flesh, and that the wanderers will find a way home, and the perished, whose lack we always feel, will step through the door finally and stroke our hair with dreaming, habitual fondness, not having meant to keep us waiting long.”

 

 

~ Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

dream on repeat

 

 

 

 

 

I’m 16
I smell of Love’s Baby Soft
and everything is pink
and fresh and romantic
like a love letter

 

 

 

 

 

 

metaphor

 

 

 

I once suggested she have a good cry
she said “I’m afraid if I start
I’ll never be able to stop”

 

 

 

 

the way home

 

 

 

 

“The house was quiet and the night was calm”

~ Wallace Stevens