This Empty Home
They are building a house up the street from mine. I watch them working on it every day when I walk by. It’s beautiful, all the wooden planks crossing each other like a geometric foreshadowing: this house is being built for someone, being prepared for a future, like a body. I wonder if I’ll miss this place, where the houses are all different. I compile them together, build houses in my mind. They stack up on each other and are inseparable from you, or me. I build walls and then I knock them down. I build windows and draw the blinds but leave the panes uplifted to let in the breeze. I hang pictures, construct porches, and soon there are vacation homes, too. There is a house being built up the street from me; this house is being built for someone, prepared like a body, and I am being built, too. Identity is unstable/you are the illusion of stability. As I walked by the house this morning, I noticed the progress: new windows and slate-blue paint and I thought, “Maybe by the time that house is built, I’ll be built too.”
The Landscape We Left on Each Other by Lauren Elle DeGaine is a Blasted Tree collection of poetry.
ISBN [Digital]: 978-1-987906-37-0
Cover Design by Kyle Flemmer