A House of My Own

 

                                  



Not a flat. Not an apartment in back. Not a man's house. Not a daddy's . A house all my own. With my porch and my 

pillow, my pretty purple petunias. My books and my stories. My two shoes waiting beside the bed. Nobody to shake

a stick at. Nobody's garbage to pick up after.

  Only a house quiet as snow, a space for myself to go, clean as paper before the poem.


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