The House

The House.

I am a house.

Some rooms are full of light, others less so.

Breathing under water

you meet a child,

owl-eyed and sparrow-legged,

round handwriting in a sepia garden.

Answering before questions,

laughter in iambic tetrameters.

Honestly, Mum and Dad bury you before birth.

They remove you.

Stuffing pockets of duffel coats with sweets.

I hear the motors of lawn mowers outside.

They do not belong to my friends.

Reviews

[patricia]

Breathing under water
you meet a child,
owl-eyed and sparrow-legged,
round handwriting in sepia garden...phew! this is an outstanding observation, penned in exquisite style. Thankyou.

[Ice Girl]

I absolutely loved it! Great Poem!

[Dayran]

Fully self expressive with roomsful of thoughts as different from each other as the rooms, but still it is within the house. A nice way to capture a variety of thoughts and despite their differences, know that they still belong to the conception of one whole experience. An honest write!

[Emily B]

Nikki Giovanni wrote

and my windows might be dirty
but its my house
and if i can't see out sometimes
they can't see in either

But I like the way you traveled in the direction that you are a house. I like the reference to light and less light. And I am glad to meet a bird-child. Any day.