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my father's house

my father's house bears change

these days

the voices bouncing

off the walls

are not those of my family

                                          but

of strangers

taking the space

i once knew so well


they speak with West Virginia accents

                                                             strangely

and treat me as a stranger


there are few things left

in my father's house

to remind me of familial love

to comfort me in shared history


something has been transplanted

and another thing supplanted


my father's house which

once was also mine

is no longer even

my father's house.








douglas brent smith


 

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