My house
Is really not a very nice house
It’s lacking the strength of a clay-fired heat
Built atop these flimsy bird feet
Like an egg, so brittle
Leaving me to feel so little
My house
teeters with invisible emotional weight
chalky names scribbled on our blended family slate
Like grima screeching down my spine
Fix me with rusty nails. Promise me I’m fine
looking ridiculous hiding my fleece
Locking bedroom doors to keep the peace
Full stop
Heart drop
I want to move past those games we played
Understanding may have been delayed
But my red wagon full of feels
Has been rolling in circles on tired wheels
So, unpack the qualm and quandary.
I’m ready to wash my dirty laundry
Open every cupboard up wide
Leave nowhere for abhorrence to hide
Can we paint this house freshly new?
To get the hate out, use zaffre blue.
Rehydrate the dried roses to leafing
Everyone from your corners, even if seething
My house
Has the potential to be a very nice house
Fill it with smiles and comfortable ease
Let’s all treat distrust like a disease
Because I love each and every little mouse
In this home called my house
-Norma Rrae
you can find the art that inspired this poem here:
I realize I’m completely off the weekly poem schedule! I’m trying friends, I’m trying ☺️
Norma Rrae 
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