Marvin Lurie

House

Enclosed in my errand,
I step on the stair that squeaks.
It’s the scratchy voice of the house
reminding me of its virtues
saying, “Attend to me.
I am old but secure.
My walls need Spackle in some places
but they keep out the wind and rain
and will never let your furniture
slip out onto the lawn. Furthermore,
my windows look out on trees and flowers in summer
and can be closed in winter.
The furnace grumbles in the basement,
but he can be replaced
and I will still be your house.”

I move my foot
and the house seems satisfied.
It goes back to its shelterly jobs
until the next time I am distracted
and forget.

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