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Betsy Schreiber

I Did Not Build This House

I did not build this house alone
Upon foundations of folly
Wood floors have split and groan
Knotty planks creep
Out the front door
Beyond walls stretched
Over mossy stone
I did not build this house alone
The symbiots fed it
As they were nourished
Engorged like an unborn child
Who stretches and kicks it
Then, vacates it for a while
This house whose pathways
Were fed by blood and breath
Humming and pumping
Beating and strumming
Dancing the rhythm of life
and death.
I did not build this house

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Standing In the Clearest Rain

The clearest rain
trickles down my nose
And runs into the dry cracks
Through dripping hair
Seeps into my bones,
Reflecting lights flash ….red and white
Humming a silent incision
As they swing… white and red.
They sparkle in the droplets
winking secrets unseen
By the guilty bystanders
Who must look beyond
Their red and white and
Truncated fields of vision
While the clearest rain
And warm tunes dance
Red and white and
Swing white and red again
Whose beams bang
Out a jig on the tube

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