Today's poem is by Julie Danho

On Our New House

Statistics say I won't die here
but I will have a baby here, two babies
here, that I won't put them on
a sled and lock them outside here, that I'll
give them hot chocolate, too much
chocolate here, that I'll fight with
my husband here, stay with
my husband here, will drink a bit
too much every so often here,
have sex 2.2 times a week here,
will cook my turkeys dry.
                                        Fifty years
he lived here, the man who built
this house. He didn't know,
six daughters in, his wife would go
far before him, that he'd
abandon her garden, let the stove
sit cold. His eldest, reluctantly,
laid down the keys, said, please,
water the blueberry bush, promised
we'd eat fruit big as a fist.

Copyright © 2014 Julie Danho All rights reserved
from Six Portraits
Slapering Hol Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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