Metaphorical Home Poem

We're coming up on four years since we bought our very first home! This is a poem I wrote shortly thereafter.

The Pusher

we became friends with the pusher in September

he’s been knocking ever since



when I leave the office

I meet my husband at the red brick cape cod

on the corner of

E. Woodlawn and Tacoma



we are high by 5p.m.



he says

“dance with me”



we take off our shoes and the green grass tickles our souls



sing

climb

the

stairs



to the copper nest

we

j

   u

      m

           p

on cotton pinstripes

breathe fabric softener dreams



because we OWN

the paneled wall

that crack in the ceiling

the spot on the rug

the drafty windows

every inch



it is a pill

from the medicine cabinet

I swallow it each evening

to dissolve the day