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Aug 2018
Theres always lights on in my house
A few dishes in the sink
A pile of clothes here and there
Some folded
Some furrowed in baskets
Hiding under beds
You can find drawers of everything and nothing
Half missing decks of cards, candy, broken crayons, photos flooded in boxes and albums of our lives
You can find pieces of my mother
Scrawled in notebooks from freedom times of her youth
She would never tell you about
Youll be greeted by a wriggley pug with shoe or couch cushion in mouth
No, she will not stop kissing you
Theres always food in my house
Fancified labors of love
Shoved in saved salsa jars
Theres the old fireplace wrapped in wooden shelves and books and books and books
Drafty walls meet creaky aching wood floors
My house was warped with time
The attic is twenty degrees hotter than the basement
Likely from my pubescent years there
Sleeping at night you can hear mice or birds or bats in the ceiling
Scutterring a rhythm of cohabitated life
Id beat on the walls
Theres been renovations
Live ins
Move outs
Break ins
Move back ins
Dead plants fake plants and growing gardening
My house is a changing ecosystem
Bustling beside main street
With a cemetary stare past the back yard
Buried lives and versions of mine
Youll find life and love history and family
Holy hurt with
Heart and soul
Best thing is
The doors always unlocked
Zoe Sue
Written by
Zoe Sue
   Rob Rutledge
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