House Keeping
Don’t forget to take your
house. You put it down
at the front door. To dry.
Because you had been
walking in the rain with it.
Mine’s the one with the porch
across the hall from yours.
They like each other, it’s
sweet. They play well
together, look how yours
taps the swing on mine.
And the swing set, with
the silver legs that can rear
up like an angry horse. Don’t
leave it here. That’s yours.
We don’t want some other
house falling over your
swing set, do we, now,
no, of course not. I would
never suggest that your
house is ill-behaved.
I would never. We teach
houses how to treat us
with the land we tuck
them into, the additions
we give them or snagged
screens that go unpatched.
There are no bad houses or
bad owners, just bad plumbers.
How terse and true.
ReplyDeleteAnd funny.
I got a feeling this was political.
ReplyDeleteLove your metaphoric rinse.
bad houses....
ReplyDeleteare you sure?
bad plumbers - of that I'm sure - ehehe
thea.
xx
Oh, you got a wonderful set of associations and images exploding in my head! And thoughts about our neighborly, friendly, social responsibilities to one another, etc. And then the image was a new surprise, sending me back to the poem for more!
ReplyDeleteI can see so many things in this. Parent/child, parent to parent, friend to friend....
ReplyDeleteWow, the juxtaposition of this text and that image, just fantastic Hannah. xoxo
ReplyDeleteMy house wishes it belonged to someone handier. But, they could not love it the way I do.
ReplyDelete