Member Poem

A House With Many Openings

I wanted a house
with many openings
to let in sunlight,
a perfect house,
bright as a Matisse,
overflowing with
your books
& my collections.

In the streets
they drive by,
pick-ups piled
with plywood,
station wagons
laden with supplies,
food & batteries,
gallon water jugs.

From the coast
come refugees
their faces drawn,
some worried,
others angry,
fleeing paradise
gone wild.

The wind stops playing
gentle games, the chimes
we hung two years ago
have left their hooks.

The cat draws blood
as I clutch her close,
while a careless fury
makes passage through
a house of many openings.

A House With Many Openings

I wanted a house
with many openings
to let in sunlight,
a perfect house,
bright as a Matisse,
overflowing with
your books
& my collections.

In the streets
they drive by,
pick-ups piled
with plywood,
station wagons
laden with supplies,
food & batteries,
gallon water jugs.

From the coast
come refugees
their faces drawn,
some worried,
others angry,
fleeing paradise
gone wild.

The wind stops playing
gentle games, the chimes
we hung two years ago
have left their hooks.

The cat draws blood
as I clutch her close,
while a careless fury
makes passage through
a house of many openings.