House

The pennies squeak in your fingers, wet with the the sky's perspiration. Drawing their copper onto your DNA- scraping away the cells of her past. Strips of trees, plastered to the floor careful not to shed a drip- a stain on top of her hardwood tiles. We Consecrate all our labor on the sheets. The paint sticks like glue to her succulent, hidden roots; Coloring the cover under her opaque jumpsuit of alabaster. Awash with tides of a new dawn, the pennies, the paper, the paint spread like honeybees in Summer's wake Formulating the colors of love.