No One Lives Here
“Welcome to our home-
no one lives here”
I want to say
as I usher our guests
inside
My husband says
the best way
to know someone
is to visit their home
then proceeds to
scrub, disinfect, and remove
all traces of human life
from ours
He is normally tidy, so
he has created
a new definition of
'company clean'
beyond my understanding
empty, echoing
eerily clean
my rubber boots
relegated
to the trunk of my car
God forbid
anyone know
I still play in the mud!
In one way
it's kind of nice
Like visiting
someone else's house
without the hassle
of leaving mine...
But soon I'll miss
my clutter
wishing for the
comfortable chaos
of my creative processes
longing for
some evidence
of the most important
things to me
who I am
how I feel
what I do...
Sometimes I long
for someone to see
my mess
no unrealistic
expectations
just bare, exposed
human frailty
adorned with
a passion
for creative survival
whatever that looks like...
And if they're not
strong enough
to stomach that
I'll find new friends.
Copyright © Rhona Mcferran | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment