In My Mother’s House

every wall stood at attention even the air knew when to hold its breath the polished floors looked up defying heel marks the plastic slipcovers crinkled in discomfort in my mother’s house the window shades flapped against the glare of the world the laughter crawled like roaches back into the cracks even the humans sat— cardboard cut-outs around the formica kitchen table and with silver knives sliced and swallowed their words