POST-TRAUMA STILL-LIFE WITH CHOSEN FAMILY

​This sad excuse of a house,
with its faded yellow exterior,
 
its outdated kitchen, the spiders
making homes in crevices
 
and corners. It’s old, it’s half-
destroyed, its acre replete
 
with weeds, but I still have a little
love for this place, still long
 
to recline in the clover and look
up at the clouds moving south
 
in the sky. I still long to call
this place home. Forget
 
what happened beforehand,
the before-hands punching
 
holes into the walls. Forget
all the hatred I had for the place.
 
There’s some hope here. I feel it.
I feel like you and I can make
 
this sad excuse of a house
a home.