the oneiric house
in dreams I draw my house in the mouth of the highest hill
the driveway bends steeply to the door
but I enter through the rooftop: a black triangle
reveals itself as the dark plane of an open box.
downwards I drift to find my living room lightless
& filled with closed cardboard boxes.
in the darkness that confuses my memories
of an illuminated, aestival childhood
I know I've left something here.
red lipstick
in the second house, I grew angry at lipstick on the mirror
I lost a hamster to the heating system
I watched the television tower & fall
the architecture was misleading
suspended over a steep hill
we would enter through the third floor;
strangers lived underneath
rumbling in the ventilation system;
each balcony, higher, loomed over a barren yard
a highway just beyond
a height that tugged, tempted
in the dry earth I dug a hole, but could only bury my elbow
I snuck over the neighbor's fence
& in the roots of their tree, hid provisions for running away
once, while my mom was at work, I devised a trick
to paint my face bloody & bruised with makeup
as if I had fallen in a terrible accident
beneath the stairs I waited, sprawled, for her
for the moment that she would see my injury
& cradling, heal me –
but she was late
so I washed my face
off into a sink
running red