the room is
bursting
flattened
from silver and bronze
nostalgia walls
framing a time
we celebrated

our shelves
should be empty


the house is
splitting
at the seams and corners
alcoholic lucid dreams
clinking, clanking
in the backseat
the heart monitor
keeping time
counting
down
breath left in this house
like a smoke alarm

we got rid of the swing set
swaying
back and forth
every last bit of life
growing old or blowing smoke
growing up
in a cobweb hall
the portrait of my parents
sliding
down
the
wall.