Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Turnkey Construction (Poem)

Turnkey Construction

So many stones broken —
yet we build the house,

a beginning muscled
into shape. To cleave

at night under that
single roof, we agree to

leave open more windows,
air the difference between

this fact and that truth.
One of us prefers high walls

to open spaces. One of us
still resists coming clean.

Who holds the turnkey?

© 2014 Maureen E. Doallas

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