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building houses

Alan Finlay

yesterday   i was breaking wood
     
tomorrow   i am building houses
     
can you turn   so silently in your sleep
     
     
there is a house   i want with blinds
     
heavy scent   your breath
     
     
there is a house   i have with words
     
bricks for building   a path of cement
     
     
driveway turning   in fading light
     
until you are    
     
    i watch you go
     
lost in the vertigo   of what i know
     
     
your cement paths   leading away
     
the sound of dark   coughing along the road
     
     
strangers come   with their handfuls of nails
     
i sit with their faces   as if they're made
     
     
for building houses   hammering in
     
     the day, so    
    it makes no sound, so it
     
shuts the windows    
     
                   (your inch words

                                 breathe on my face


i wait for you   who can turn
     
   back to me    

i wait                         for my last window

First published in Carapace



LitNet: 25 April 2006

Click here to read more poetry by Alan Finlay

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