Present Perfect
       

This has been
the tiny house
in which we all
have, at one time, lived

in terror, in safety. History
has buried it.
Have wasted.

It has contained the wisdom
forbidden to us as children.
Little hand
has been slapped in an attic.

And the dark violet of some
summer night
in bed between
parents. The television

has glowed in our faces, and a car
has driven by outside, has built
rafters and pillars in the room
all around us

out of light. Has
brought them down.

Moved on.

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Copyright © 2014 Laura Kasischke All rights reserved
from The Infinitesimals
Copper Canyon Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission