Cheerless dusk through dusty shades 

And 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.