A super raw piece, written at Vox Ferus, Marty McConnell’s writing workshop, in response to “houses all the way down, or, the slope mine” by Nina Puro.
Whether or not my house is on fire
I've taken to enjoying my mother.
No longer an optimist, I've given up
on photography — trust my way
through the labyrinth and accept
the fall of each turn. Some days
my mother greets the morning
and clears the path, almost a blueprint.
I've taken to drawing doors where
they should never be. Sometimes
after walking through, the fall
turns golden, a compass. Sometimes
the fall a wrinkle in time.