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Her House

by Constance Urdang

If I am in the house

beams posts planks siding slate
protect us
guard us against the night-terrors


Floor shore us up above the void below
cover us roof
enclose us from the void above
door keep out the angry stranger


Hearth cherish the fire
windows be beacons
breathe out my warm air chimney
while I am in the house


In this room
my eyes be twelve-paned windows
clock pump my blood
cover my nakedness, rug
curtains be eyelids
sofa, I rest on your strong thighs


Where is the soul’s seat?
Doctors have cut up frogs and not found love.
Is this my reason?


I in myself

Read at St. Lydia’s on August 18, 2012

Posted in: Poems

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