each sigh that has ever escaped my mother’s lips
has set off fires in our walls that roared my name
I realized today how tired they seemed of burning
last night had finally fed me my own smoke
by what veil (by what evil) have I disregarded
the sad carpets, weak ceilings and empty chairs
the cheap smell, chipped paint and rotten floorboards
I had tried building a sanctuary with bones and dirt
narcissus had come to lend a hand – one I held too tightly
my sister had watched me stack bricks with father’s blood
her tears fell so heavy the neighbors spoke of earthquakes
putting down the trowel meant facing a crooked wall
one I loathed mainly because it wore my name
so perfectly – I had given birth to ambiguous flaws
but mother’s face bore more scars than disappointment
The house collapsed at noon
All it took was a century of earthquakes
You can call it a rebirth if you’d like
But I smell less of life than of murder