Our Second House by Kumiko Mae

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I miss our old house
her secrets
closets filled with old toys
clothes of another
generation.

I long for
her redness
floors stained by soiled feet
of the outdoor games
by curious hands
I do not know of anymore.

I miss the roof
how it melted under
my cold feet as
white linen hang dry
in the open
soaking the sun
while rats escape in the shadows.

I miss our old doors
never locked for each other
with walls that wouldn't keep
us apart, when the world is close to my ear--
wild when it's quiet
I miss the years of everything
salted like butter, easy shelves
and soft corners.
I miss the games that cheated
us of nothing more than what we can give
how the bed was always made
even when there's a blackout
and we fan each other as we sleep.

I miss the sound of a day stuck with
you all around me.
until I hear you crisply burnt
taking my favorite pillow away
leaving not even a feather.

- Kumiko Mae

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