Home
A safe environment, “a great place to raise the kids”
A prestigious neighborhood of affluence
A lie. A stereotype. An assumption. A double standard

A harsh metal gate restrains bared teeth and growls with cold, gray opposition
Gun shot, squealing tires, a man speeding away into the dark, away from the dark

Burning roof, lightning strike, old age impediment
A new For Sale sign glaring by the road

Red flashing lights, sirens, oxygen masks, stretchers
Ambulances constantly at our doorstep

Empty orange bottles litter the drawers
Filling them to the brim with promises of aching relief
Hypnotized by pain and futility
Stare into the drawer with tears of brimstone

A fish tank, once bright and vivid with life and color
Gone. A skeleton.

Trash cans scatter debris
Precious diamonds of the gutter spilled

Pink supposedly has a calming presence, so a wall-to-wall blush becomes my fortress
Flaming rose and midnight swirls now enfold me in a constant frenzy

Empty halls, wall to wall silence
Hollow rooms where missing sorrow carves out a hole
Is anyone home? Is anyone listening?

I find my purpose in a flickering light
Puffs of smoke that deteriorate my black lungs
A bubble of vulnerability and absentmindedness
Ocean eyes and mirror images
The protector

A long circular driveway
Goes around and around
Can you escape the routine?

Home is where the heart is
Broken