Once I was a cave for you Strong walls and a deep hearth Warm and safe and home My skinny arms sheltered – Not too thin for you, Tiny little thing, sprawled or curled I was a whole landscape You grew as you do when you Have a home to grow out of It is good and right and true But I feel I am small again Too small for you To be enveloped like you ought to be When the world is too un-cavey I wonder if it is enough That once I was a shelter – It seems to be when you cling And I can’t surround you…
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Reconstruction
I am going home, you said, I relish every word you left, bereft Of every one you didn’t yet And every one I didn’t coax out of you when I could. Those are the ones that might be wood. But it’s only straw instead. Home is it? and you insist, But when your heart stopped cold I missed The home at the part where your last breathe kissed This end of eternal sowing, sighed Into the harvest of your life There is not room for this. Where is home without you here It may sounds trite, but feels too clear To rise above cliches and fear That what fell down…
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On Two Years in the Little Blue House
Coming to Spokane surprised us, though planned. Right up until the day we drove that giant Penske truck out of Salinas, California we were unsure if we would be leaving. We chose the Northwest intentionally for various reasons, but Spokane was just a page on Wikipedia that seemed not-terrible. It did not take long for us to fall in love. We – Gabe, me, and our two dogs – stayed in a hotel while Gabe started his first day of college at Gonzaga. We found an apartment in the heart of downtown and took an eager bite out of this delicious city. We walked to Riverfront Park several times a…
