926 W. GROVE
my boyhood home was
calm and
serene
until the day when
firefighters rushed in
to put out a small fire
burning undetected
under the house in the
crawlspace
I remember playing
in the
backyard
amid honeysuckle bushes
how stray cats pissed in
the sandbox
the soccer goal my father
built for me
how my errant kick sent
the ball
crashing through the
plate glass
window
window
I stopped by for a look
in my
twenties
the house still standing
but
smaller than in memories
dingy and dilapidated like
the
neighbourhood surrounding
it
grass growing knee high
I looked
on Google Maps and found
it
burned
down
fire gets what it wants
eventually
now it’s just a vacant
lot on a quiet
street in a quiet town in
Texas
where the moist black
dirt smells
the same as it always has
but
everything
else changed
J. Archer Avary
Tags:
Poetry
I really enjoyed this poem, thanks for sharing it.
ReplyDeleteI had long forgotten that broken window, but did slice my thumb replacing it, requiring multiple stitches. Thanks for the memories - Love Dad!
ReplyDeleteNice poem.
ReplyDelete