The House We Once Lived In

…they were raised to believe they could only trust words. words were a place to stand… [1]
…the trap of reason binds us in the net of time… [2]
…by the reach of your hybris, shall your house be known…[3]

A foreclosure sign went up today outside the τόπος κοινός;
the words couldn’t pay the rent.

in the final pass-through before departure 
syntax wept
laden with memories on the precipice of dissolution 

a lone rhetorical trope buried 
in a backyard paint-can-time-capsule

that stain under the sink 
where the emergency stash of grammar leaked through 
its container

the nail hole on the wall in the bedroom 
larger than it should be and not enough time 
to fill it in the haste of departure 
(the frame that hung up the sentence 
was too heavy) 

a faded, half-finished landscape drawing on the wall
where punctuation had tried her hand 
at curating a museum exhibition in the staircase;
thwarted, mid-vision, she blustered and pouted all evening
(already so sure of her artistic worth)

she used sharpie
and the acrid scent of incipient structure lingered 
for centuries 

this house of spent phrases and broken syllogisms 
will be on the market tomorrow;
a τόπος uncommon breaches the perimeter 
in the arcane hours before dawn opens her doors
feeling grasping easing gasping 
towards an occupancy of spirit.

***

Quotations:
[1] Alexis Pauline Gumbs, M Archive: After The End Of The World
[2] M. NourbeSe Philip, Zong!
[3] Sylvie Kandé, The Neverending Quest for the Other Shore