Wednesday, November 2, 2011



Every room is full,
even the empty ones.

A house is brewed
from plans. Here is

your master, says
the realtor to the

twenty-three year
olds, leading them

through one room
to the bathroom

without the bathtub,
his and hers sinks,

though, so they can
each have a drain

to clear the frothy
toothpaste from their

mouths. No one
had ever lived in

the apartment, and
yet, with confidence,

the realtors knows
what goes where.

Future home of
more homes, like

the sign says,
not a dug-up lot

but an intended site,
future home of

some yet-unnamed
place, to be announced

as soon as a pencil
says it to the blueprints,

claiming this land
with certainty

as if uncovering
a name already planted

within the plans and
waiting to be called on.


  1. As always, good stuff Hannah : )

  2. This is seriously good. Congratulations.

  3. Well done! I love that image too, full of empty rooms.

  4. More gathering than hunting, in some cases.

  5. I was reminded of when we were looking at homes to buy...I always thought that someone else was using the sink and how many times that had happened before....kind of owners to see, only their stuff : )
    I walked with you as you read the poem : ) Have a great day Hannah!

  6. This illustrates the sort of voyeuristic too much candy feeling I get when I watch (a lot of) House Hunters. I'm pretty sure you live inside my head. xxxxxxxx

  7. "Every room is full, even the empty ones." I am sure that will prompt something in this old mind, Hannah. thanks for this. (:--D)


The Storialist. All rights reserved. © Maira Gall.