house is forever—being cleaned—
the children hate to watch it go—
every scrap to them is treasure
loss found the second time—anew
house is forever being—cleared—
to help me decide—who—
i make high heaps of harbored stuff
then watch the rick fall—through—
collide with floor—strike the board—
“less fell” i make into our daily bread—
then again i wait until
i can heap store speak—again
house is—forever being moored
to unmoorish moony things—
like springs from toys—
and spring—
pestilence too—i thought i liked
my poisons in pretty little cups—
but the mouses in my closet
have put me on—the cusp—
house unhoused itself this morn—
the way it does when i like that do sing—
beneath the fingers of a man—
i didn’t quite ask—in
house refused to sail away
it stayed with me—within—
together we used the windows
to count macaws—and sin—
he’s learned to send himself—away—
knock later if you must, you will—persist—now
empty only looks and sounds—to the amateur—amiss—