A simple hallway of a home. A son
We never had. A son we did have. A
Place to call our own. A place to
Make heavenly or hellish. A simple
Tunnel of a home. Two rooms blooming
To the left. A kitchen full of great
Smells. A place where we could forever
Dwell in our heart and mind. A place
To burn down. A place to be flooded.
A place to cry in pleasure and pain.
It was real what we had, no tile left
Unturned in that hallway of a home.
It was not big enough for us. We were
Too big for us. The gods could not stop
Watching our basic days; they experimented
On us, just jealous, I guess. You made
A hallway into a home. A heart was its
Mouth. That door whose keyhole I would
Stare through waiting for you to finally
Come home. Why don’t we just go back home?
