real estate.

Build me a house made of paper
that I may not learn to love it long
before the rain melts it away,
that I may not learn
to live within walls
built to keep others outside,
or forget the light of the
stars guiding my dreams
above my head.

Build me a house made of paper
that I may not rest
against its walls,
but learn to stand straight
as a pillar
on my own foundation,
feeling the shifts and sighs
of the earth
below my feet.

Build me a house made of paper
that I may write on its walls
the truths of these days,
leaving smudged fingerprints
and crossed-out metaphors
where words fail to see beyond,
and speak in shadow-puppets
where hands becomes wings
that lift me away.