Just Under the Shoulder of Taurus

I found where my house fits under the sky tonight.

Just under the shoulder of Taurus,
A little east of Cassiopeia’s lap,
A little west of the charioteer.

Visitations

“Mama” – she said to me,

tilted her spoon like a silver wand –

“A butterfly came to our house.”

Death_to_Stock_Tactile_7

A house is not a neutral box,
Nor rooms a mere four walls.

It hears you and it sees you,
And it remembers things,

And twenty years from now – or eighty –

Your echo still

For good or ill

Will be there.

Bare feet on carpet,

slow steps and loosened hips, belly round with unborn child –

Like some household high priestess I unwrap the morning light,

unfold it out of curtains, shake it loose, and wait.