Chambers The house loved my mother. When she slammed a door, The walls shook just for her. They were sympathetic To her cause, made certain I could hear her sobbing Through their skin. Her tears would leak Through the floor, And pool on the Ceiling, a damp stain In the shape of A continent That dripped On our heads. I thought, If I could smooth out The tangled blankets On my bed, then Maybe I could Make her happy. I have spent years Smoothing everything Into knots. I have grown Like ivy around a fence Of her construction, Have become a tangle Of coils, a labyrinth I do not wish to walk, And in my heart I carry A copy of the house, the Separate chambers pulsing Into one another, locked in The ebb and flow of blood.
Chambers.
Giles, John
Chambers The house loved my mother. When she slammed a door, The walls shook just for her. They were sympathetic To her cause, made certain I could hear her sobbing Through their skin. Her tears would leak Through the floor, And pool on the Ceiling, a damp stain In the shape of A continent That dripped On our heads. I thought, If I could smooth out The tangled blankets On my bed, then Maybe I could Make her happy. I have spent years Smoothing everything Into knots. I have grown Like ivy around a fence Of her construction, Have become a tangle Of coils, a labyrinth I do not wish to walk, And in my heart I carry A copy of the house, the Separate chambers pulsing Into one another, locked in The ebb and flow of blood.