Cheerless dusk through dusty shadesAnd lodged on the floor of my closet
I unpack a box of Lego blocks
In blindingly cheerful colors.
The instructions are bold, concise bullets.
I build an unkempt room
A bitter morning when I
Memorized the unremarkable ceiling
Dotted with lonely fruit-flies.
The instructions are cold, apathetic bullets.
I build a dying forest
The brittle twigs rage against
Ashen leaves that have turned
Enemies after petty, pathetic quarrels.
The instructions are faded, yellowing bullets.
I build my memory of home
The cool tiles and sonorous walls
Forbidden liquor under lumpy sweaters
My mother rereading Jane Austen.
There aren't enough pieces for that one.