This poem is taken from PN Review 74, Volume 16 Number 6, July - August 1990.
The Other HouseIn the house of childhood
I looked up to my mother's face;
the sturdy roofbeam of her smile
buckled the rooms in place.
A shape of the unchangeable
taught me the word 'gone'.
In the house of growing up
I lined my prison wall
with lives I worshipped as I read.
If I chose one, I chose all,
such paper clothes I coveted
and ached to try on.
The house of youth has a grand door,
a ruin the other side
where death watch & company
compete with groom and bride.
...
The page you have requested is restricted to subscribers only. Please enter your username and password and click on 'Continue'.
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 284 issues containing over 11,400 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 284 issues containing over 11,400 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?