- being
- clandestine with walls,
- clamouring cats wake the senses
- with pleas; I long for peace.
- for the day to lengthen its pace,
- for my heart to settle
- like this house has.
- the ceiling presses down,
- flattens the backs of cats,
- warning the air to a stifled cry
- of yet another hunger.
- alone
- tracing shadows on the afternoon walls,
- the architecture of my loneliness
- drafted onto the chipped and faded plaster,
- the creaking and groaning of the piling and beams
- haunts the heavy wood
- the house shudders;
- the cats crawl into sleep.
- being alone
- built upon the foundation of my choosing,
- set into the ground I have dug myself,
- I pave the way for pity and let
- what’s left of light slide through my fingers;
- dusk transforms the house, becomes a cavern
- and I am what I am able within these confines;
- this cherished construction