you, house

no warm wind flows
through this place—

empty space
parked in a paved lot.

lines lead dully
to an uneventful end
dully--
like a grounded rectangle
of crab-grass

rooted tightly,
the light soft memory of you,
house—
light blue in sunlight and
dressed in white trim

tightly-rooted
the light, soft memory of you
clutching the earth—
square space—
not wanting anyone to take it away.

--Mr. Sugar

Copyright NEOCH and the Homeless Grapevine published June 1996-July 1996 Issue 16