In Contract

Over the threshold
you step to greet
a new life, lilies
flushing pink cheeks
as you pass. You,
ever-shifting voice,
protean protagonist—
what story do you think
has been agreed upon
here? Someone else's
floors flare outward
into rooms speckled
by other dust. Early
spring and five kinds
of birds in chorus
all echoing that perhaps
in this new house
is something sweet
and solid and whole.

Thanks for reading! This year I'm writing poems about moving into my first house and dealing with a lot of drama and evolution in this and other parts of my life. We'll see where it goes.