“Musings in an Empty House”

I’m the kind of person who becomes intensely attached to nouns (i.e. people, places, things).  This particular poem focuses on a place I became attached to: the first house Sam and I shared together.  When we first moved in, I wrote a poem about its various crumbling parts.  It belonged to the married housing sector of our college campus, and wasn’t in great shape.  We made a ton of memories there, and even though our new apartment is beautiful, I still miss our old house sometimes.  Life was simple and sweet in that house.  The day we moved away, I wrote this poem.

“Musings in an Empty House”

A faucet drips a steady rhythm in
a rusty porcelain bathtub.
A breeze whistles through the
gaps in poorly sealed windows.
A permanent marker squeals against
cardboard, writing, “Kitchen: Fragile.”
I have never paused to hear
the hum of the refrigerator,
the murmur of the hot water heater,
the squeak squeak squeak of an agitated fan.
I remember us as newlyweds,
the living room bursting with
wrapping paper and envelopes
as we locked all the doors and,
laughing together,
left my wedding dress
crumpled on the carpet.
I gather nails from the walls,
rub the scars we left.
This house absorbed
the smoke from burnt soup,
didn’t laugh at us when we
moved our bed into the dining room
by the only functioning air conditioning unit.
This house offers our memories
in a sealed envelope,
listens for the final click of a lock.

© Callie Revell, 2012

Categories: Creative Writing | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

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