your
body
twisted in ’27
by the tornado
that provoked
Grandpa to dig
the root cellar
my mother said
there wasn’t a square corner in you
washed white
you bloomed
up over prairie dust
may day ’34
you were
ration for
Grandma’s second son
whose hunting
produced no wild meat
in that ’45 Italian transport
’64
on your linoleum lap
my 2 sisters and 4 brothers
played in split lines where chairs rubbed
an inherited acreage ’74
your
frame
expanded even as
it spilled
two
your
face
from the inside out
shone at night
in the dark country nights
coming home ’85
now
your
skin
disturbed plaster
over slat bones
your
dressing gown
wallpaper
flowers peeled to olive
then mauve rouge
your
shoulders
tiered up
under sagging eaves
you see
with crackled eyes
and smoke panes
’04 out of your
reach
a tapered
plume
down burns
your twisted
body
“House” was printed in Esther, No. 1 of Inwood Indiana. Pick up the paperback from Prolific Press; the stories and poems published online are free to read here.
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