House is sold at the fall of the hammer
I secretly wish I would experience
a rush of sadness for losing a home
I PET scanned my brain hoping to detect
any remembrance more than an empty shell
with forced smiles
all the eggshells I have walked on
turned into ashes scattering in the garden
feeding the bird of paradise
7 Christmases of opening gifts of unimportance
7 Easters of egg hunt for children’s laughter
7 years of prayer and supplication
House is sold at the fall of the hammer
a weight has fallen off my shoulder
the crown stripped off the prince’s head
