“My Childhood Home”
The kitchen floor was muffled
it could not speak to all it had seen
From the laughter, the tears
the juice spills or batter messes.
The dog loved it
waiting for scraps of dinner,
unwanted and dangling from the hands of children:
“Don’t waste food, there are people who don’t have it.”
But now there is no sound
the dog has died and the children have left
Only the stains remain
from running inside with muddy shoes.
I hear the builder yell something
muffled by the sounds of street cars passing
A moment’s silence
Before the walls come crashing.
- Rita Shahi