Remodeling

We were after other forms, more light. The house itself suggested other versions of itself, faces within a face.

Rooms refused to add up. We petitioned partitions. Shadows fell against their will.

Blue meant one kind of life, yellow quite another. Annuities of fate sat in paint cans, quiet, unmixed.

In Plato’s formal heaven, two-by-fours are Two By Four, grainless, ideal. Here lumber rankles at our plain

geometry, gets nailed to the crosses of our blueprints. We model, mold, remold, remodel. And still we sigh.