The House I Grew Up In

The House I Grew Up In had a hole in the hall closet door father’s fist-size with jagged edges punched at mother’s eye level unseeing relations hung winter coats inside innocents asked: "what happened here"? it was part of the decor like the living room schefflera plant and the wooden crucifix above Patricia’s bed I covered it with a cardboard Santa for the holidays, still at night I heard its screams years later, in my garden I unearthed that hole and filled it with the roots of a sedum