The Life Inside

Judith Rodriguez

A little house, a little house.

Heard from the yard:

fresh voices at the door.

A little house.

A little house.

The shelves that fill,

and cups along the board.

A little house.

Two chairs pushed close,

the crossword page filled out.

A little house.

Heard from the bed:

the hot wind all night long.

A little house.

The photos stare.

The phone shrills once and stops.

A little house.

Heard by no ear

the messages repeat.

A little house.