The structure is a cartoon.
Beams burst out like watch springs,
floors flay like toothpicks,
joists now sticks cannot hold a load,
or be re-constructed back into
that intricate attic cathedral.
Even cross beams and braces
that once had the elegance
of a mantis now resemble
scrambled eggs, the
skeletal remains of Harvey’s destruction
Like sailors venerating
the safety of their ship,
my family’s achievements
were deferentially displayed
in the cocooned walls
of our home.
No longer do I wake
to that cool blue room,
treadmill just so,
pocket door ajar and
enter a walkway leading
to an oversized bathroom.
Much went into
that renovated house
where countless paychecks
and sweat equity
made my little utopia
fit like-a-tee.
All that’s left is rubbish
and a blank sheet of paper.
Marc Livanos’ poetry appears in Straylight Magazine, POEM, Sheepshead Review, Artifact Nouveau, Old Red Kimono, Ship of Fools, Foliate Oak Literary Magazine, Wordeater, Poets’ Espresso Review, Song of the San Joaquin Quarterly, Toasted Cheese Literary Journal, The Sunday Poe and other journals.