I Often Dream of a House

By Peter Grandbois

I often dream of a house with doors I cannot open
from the inside
A house where I am forced to stare at the barking odor of being alive
A house where I can be in a room inside a room inside a room
because it’s safe
A house where I invent things so that nothing real can happen
A house in a field
A house where the thing I love most is not guilt
A house where you are gone and not gone and gone and not
A house where pain does not float like cast off shoes
A house where the sweet past sleeps in jars
A house where neither of us has a speaking part
where we settle for hours without ghosts
where memory folds tight
where our bodies crawl through frayed sky
the two of us holding each other
like walls

FavoriteLoadingSave This Story
Peter Grandbois

Peter Grandbois / About Author

Peter Grandbois is the author of seven previous books. His poems, stories, and essays have appeared in over ninety journals. His plays have been performed in St. Louis, Columbus, Los Angeles, and New York. He is a senior editor at Boulevard magazine and teaches at Denison University in Ohio.

> More posts by Peter Grandbois