this proud little home
bare ankles moving in
making it our own, jet-lagged
covered in sawdust
air mattress
giddy empty

possibilities.

the kitchen was perfect
cool barefoot and wine-drunk at night
pancake batter in the morning
shattered jam jars
lovemaking, jarring
little cuts and cereal boxes
clogging the pantry
even the glass bowl heaped high
with overripe mangoes

and underripe avocadoes
and outside a garden hose
black-eyed beetles
under a stone
who cares?
about an old painting
under the stairs

behind your ears
the sour smell
coming from
inside the furnace

in the corner
where the dog
we name and love
will
die in its sleep

impossibilities.