The front door opens to a faux wood floor.
Untie your shoes and leave them in the hall.
Your sister’s put the copper kettle on
but wonders if you might want something strong,
some consolation. Here’s where you belong.
The back door’s closed, but it’s a clear glass door,
displaying a fountain and ceramic deer;
smooth paving stones; one monarch butterfly—
a solid dream of home to buy.
You wanted to be anywhere but here.