you, house

By Mr. Sugar


no warm wind flows

through this place-


empty space

parked in a paved lot.


lines lead dully

to an uneventful end


like a grounded rectangle

of crab-grass


rooted tightly,

the light soft memory of you,


light blue in sunlight and

dressed in white trim



the light, soft memory of you

clutching the earth—

square space

not wanting anyone to take it away.


Copyright Homeless Grapevine Issue#16, Cleveland, OH