October Poem 39: These Four Walls

These four walls with their white textured surface

And the wooden strips that cover the seams

In the presurfaced sheets of drywall. These

Four walls, the blank canvas painting my life.

These four walls, will your shabbiness leach in

My morning cup of coffee like so much

Leaded paint? Will it fill my lungs like the

Black mold that brings men in hazmat suits to

Cover the neighborhood in plastic tubes

Only to have the anniversary

Release with FBI men’s guns replaced

By walkie-talkies like E.T.’s PC

Police run amuck? These four walls that give

Me support. These four walls blocking me in.