house, a poem by Chris Dean

house

I want to go back

To days when

An empty box and pallet 

Made the perfect house

With grandma's old curtain

As a door.

You would sit on your hat box chair

At our milk crate table 

While I served you imaginary tea

From the pink plastic cups

Mom found at the dollar store.

We could talk about your day at work,

You complaining about your boss

While I wiped my hands on

My pretend apron.

Then, when boredom set in,

We'd leave our sleeping rubber baby

In its shoe box crib in the corner

And go catch lightning bugs

Or play tag

And ours would be the happiest home

On the block until

The street light came on

Or it rained.

 

 

 

Chris Dean, a writer from Indiana, began writing poetry in 2018. They were the featured artist for May at the Columbus Area Arts Council Monthly Open Mic Night. Their work has been published in The Whiskey Mule Diner Anthology