After photographs by Nell Dickerson
This needs narrative–
Who left, and why,
And who came back–
The house completely covered in vines,
Or vines in the shape of a house.
I once lived
Where creeper pried apart floorboard
Where I sat with my baby in the bath
And a flying squirrel
Burst out from a hole in the wall
Covered by a travel poster
Of–of all things–the Alps,
Leaping like a circus performer
Through a ring of paper.
Don’t sleep here, or you’ll dream
Of abandoning the human in habitation,
Like that night hitchhiking
When I wouldn’t camp in the decrepit house
And you agreed,
Afraid of the fair-haired tinkers
Or the unseen
Miriam Sagan is the author of twenty-five books, including the poetry collections Map of the Lost(University of New Mexico Press) and Seven Places in American (Sherman Asher, 2012). She founded and directs the creative writing program at Santa Fe Community College. In 2010, she won the Santa Fe Mayor’s award for Excellence in the Arts. For more information, see her blog, Miriam’s Well:www.miriamswell.wordpress.com.