How well do you know home?
the textured wallpaper in the hall is a burnt orange. the frayed edges are static. it’s
peeled in a myriad of places, hidden by furniture.
the kitchen is a washed out green. mint? forest? — ?
the careful itinerary of your teenage years gives you away;
the floor boards creek in new places, now.

how well do you know home?
mother’s voice echoes against the walls
like a racquetball.
the hole you kicked in the wall has grown.
father’s dried tears stain the glass table.
with a permanent marker, you circle them.

There is nothing to be here.