/art/home

last year's leaves wait for me

there is a house that lives in my mind
a courtyard wrapped in a hallway
she doesn’t need a front door
i do not walk her floors

it is always autumn in my house
at her center is a pool of fire
a chilled hearth; a single tree
last year’s leaves wait for me.

when tomorrow is too much
when the sunlight will break me
i live inside these few midnight hours
i curl up in a couple pages, a few screens


tags: poetry