Throw Away House
A rock shatters a web
in a window. She could place
her hand inside
and unwrap its work,
or learn to grow into wind
as it pulls the sound
of leaves from the trees.
She doesn’t watch the wallpaper
curve from the wall
the way her hair curls
toward her shoulder.
Every thread of sharp
gauze plays against her
fingers like air when she
tries to shut it outside.
Her neglect owes nothing
to what’s happening.
The deer move within
their patches.
Two figures stand apart,
but one looks out.