Grass grew downstairs. We climbed in at one point
and made it our own. We came well-equipped, with desk
and bowl and books. We called it the name of the parasite
that is too beautiful; it should have been a girl’s name.
She told me there was a body in the kitchen,
in the cabinet, in the closet.
The attic was her place, not mine—
we staked our claims and I missed this.
I received the den, and old mail for a dead man.
Let it grow, just let it overgrow, we begged.
Our house in time. But they took it away, and we cried.
This is a reprint of work originally published in Can We Have Our Ball Back?
Elisabeth Blair is a poet, composer and feminist podcaster currently based in Michigan. Her poetry has previously appeared in publications including S/tick, Wicked Alice, Dead Flowers: A Poetry Rag, The Literary Bohemian, Lilliput Review, and Acumen. In 2016 her first chapbook, We He She/It, was published by dancing girl press. In 2017 she was an associate artist at the Atlantic Center for the Arts, studying with poet Heather McHugh.