In our future house
the laundry lays about the living
room
socks in perpetual anguish for never
finding their partner
the pots pile in the cupboard
haphazardly organized after tiny
hands have pulled out the metallic domes to explore the sound
the chairs hum against the
kitchen floor
hastily shoved in to catch the
bus
a brisk reminder is shouted to
remember the lunch on the counter
In our future house
the cat sits quietly in her unreachable
corner
stretching her toes out in the
sun that beams through the bamboo blinds
the dog lays anxiously at our
sliding door
waiting for the opportunity to
run out, bounding through the yard that needs to be mowed
the children play languidly in
the blessed haze of summer nights
skipping through the twinkling paths
of the fireflies they catch in their jars
In our future house
The prayers rise frequently to
heaven
in the calm, meditation we take
over the first cup of coffee
in the worried midnight whispers
to heal a fever that won’t break
as a requiem to the third
goldfish this year, a blessing to accompany the mournful flush
In our future house
The floors creak as we tiptoe
past the children’s rooms
Stifling giggles as your hand
finds the skin on the small of my back
Your lips taste the curve of my
collar bone as the door closes with a gentle click
In our future house,
My love,
Is a home
We wake among the shade of the
oak trees and the cooing of the mourning dove
