The House That Jack Built by Donna Dallas

We eye these walls

mauves and greys with 

heavy strokes

of Venetian plaster

Pull ourselves out 

from under 

dark corners 

shake off

lies manifested in our cozy

nook by the stone fireplace

Separate self from truth 

through the rainbow specs 

of sun that fall from

the stained glass

window

we attempt fleetingly 

to escape the glints 

that speckle us 

from room to room

even though their warm rays deepen 

into the fully glossed parquet floors

we carelessly search for the silver goblets

later dismiss them for deliverance

Simple as the push of a foot into a boot 

the way we use the shoehorn 

or the way we ghost through the 

kitchen and dining room 

escape into our lover’s arms……or 

flee from them 

lack the courage to stay 

or say 

we cannot – or we could have 

A dollar for every time we said 

here we go again

through the long marble hallways 

of bullshit

empty beds of time

rush past us

Somehow we missed that gleaming rise 

of a billion year old star 

as we are now old stars 

save pennies 

hoard paper towels 

complain about the things that led us here 

to this very spot……this doormat so aged 

it became a camping ground 

for every trek of the path 

in and out of this house 

built with all our blood and salt

every foot over our grave 

attempting

time and time again

to kick some kind of bliss 

into our insatiable souls