Let the salt tears
stiffen your skin,
the door rattle,
the hinges sag,
Hang your coat
stiff on the hook.
When the sun burns the house,
warps the siding, blisters the paint,
slap a new coat on
before the sale.
Let the rain rust the roof,
water run through the seams.
Put the fire out
when it comes
with the bucket
with the hole.
Lift the pail
and feel the handle
cut into
your palm—
the weight
you carry free.
I worry
At times that your explications alters the Reader’s perceptions
Your earlier works are difficult but you did not give a Reader the inability to focus
These poems were moody and challenging in the best ways poetry gives itself
wonderful writing
The detail here is intimate and likable. The poem is fetching, overall. So the house is for sale?
Nope. Sorry.
Thought provoking. And thanks. Best to lift the rattly bucket and use it before it kicks you, I guess.
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