Sunday, April 26, 2015

19/30 What Your House Tells You


19/30
What Your House Tells You
Dusk falls
on a bottle of Merlot
perched on a wine rack.
And you put your ear
to a brick wall
hugging your living room.
It offers you words like: homey,
and bake. You lounge
in front of the fire.
and you hear the washing machine.
Words tumble out of your head,
words like: starved and missing.

The pit of your stomach is empty.

You nestle in pillows
flick through a girly magazine,
the universe is yours
in all its joy and hopelessness.

4 comments:

Ginna FunkWallace said...

I thought I left a comment? Maybe it didn't stick. This one slaughters me, man.

lostgander said...

Ha!

lostgander said...

Sorry--posted too soon. The laugh was for the book cover. I like the poem a lot.

Taidgh Lynch said...

Yep it's a funny book cover. Thought it might get a laugh. I'm looking for a copy to see what's inside. Probably gold.