My Grandmother’s Empty House

Her bedroom door nailed shut
Just like mine

It’s been disguising itself as so many other things
Paint chipping from the walls
I went swimming in the backyard
Jumped in the water from the cherry red deck

It creaks so loud it could have just as well been a scream
The water is much too warm, but I needed to one last time

The chlorine burns my eyes and I’m wearing all my clothes
Standing where the garden is now – in a pool that’s been gone a decade

I used to have a reoccurring dream about my grandmother’s house
I’d walk through the walls –
A secret hallway system that took you through each room

For a long time, I couldn’t tell if these were dreams or memories
I’d scan the walls over and over just in case

Now I dream of my grandmother’s empty house

I’m walking through a grocery store, the park, a bar on fire, a rain so hard
Only to look up and realize

I’m walking through my grandmother’s empty house

I’m folding laundry in a nostalgic scent
The one she always used

I’m picking out my favorite boxer shorts
Cherry red – the fabric weary thin and delicate from being washed a hundred times
I’m staring at her empty room

And I should have thrown them away by now,
They’re entirely see through with a hole down the side

And she never gave up on anybody, not even when she should have
And she never believed in much of anything besides the people she loved

And she complained for years to anyone that would listen about leaking pipes and creaking floors

But all I saw was my grandmother’s house

And I’ve bought new pairs but they’re just not as soft

I love things too long

And so, I’m walking through my grandmother’s empty house