We’re packed to move _
Forks, spoons, knives
Tossed into grocery sacks.
In the kitchen the ceiling
Is falling. As I check empty drawers
For what we might have left behind
I remember that house
On a mountain, in the snowiest
Part of the state, you bought it
Ages ago. I say, Let’s go there
We haven’t been in so long.
In fact, only once
In my dreams. So we go.
Oh! I’d forgotten how sweet
This house is. Small but immaculate
The fainting couch in the reading nook.
A reading nook! A bright, clean
Basement. Tasteful clutter upstairs.
And an indoor pool. I can see it
So clearly. Through the back window
Stepping stones cross the river.
I can even hear your mother telling me
I’ll have to use the public laundry
Until we get a machine. Yes,
It must be real. I go for a walk.
I love our neighbors. This is perfect.
And you’ve been keeping it from me
All this time.
© Tzivia Gover 2005 Dream House
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