a house

 in the afternoons when the day sits still and frightening

i think of our house, that existed like a flower

or a brook that everything passes by 

but still exists for those who pass

coins in a pocket with no purpose but to sit 

to allow life and wonder.

rings of ash and smoke over the house like a crown 

collecting fallen soldiers, laying in your arms after battle

like a flame, love purifies as it destroys and spreads wild. we hold hands

mumble words and watch. 

you brought me back to a home carefully hidden from me, where i once was

without you and writing poems, a house in the eye of the storm

a clearing, a sweet kiss and bruise, my heart split into two and you were the whole.


a city has so many houses


without us inside, houses are also something more

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