in the empty hallway where
the wood falls in line with my
heels and the sunbeams are warm
across the grain, full-steam into
my toes, that sink beneath the
floorboards and root into
the foundation where
plant muck takes
residence between
my veins, it's chilly
in this house but
most of me is still on
top and the dust bends
lights off the windows
is stained on the wall
and somewhere from
the kitchen the smell
of cider wraps around
my calves.