Moving In / Moving Out
On the coldest day of the year
so far, my new
neighbor and her rescued dog move in
my old neighbor’s
house. The new neighbor drives
an energy-efficient
car and hauls ReUseIt grocery totes
back and forth to
the store, best I can tell. She cares
about the world.
I wonder what the Realtor said
as, Sibyl-like,
she led her client through the parquet
halls and circles
of my old neighbor’s Hell: This is
where she walked.
This is where she talked. This
is where
she buttered her bread. And this—
this—is
the heap on which she stood Dido-like,
full of rage and pain,
before she threw herself into air
and flame.
Who knows what’s truthfully required?
Some parts of life
and owning up must be nothing less
than a hard sell.
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