We were after other forms, more light. <br />The house itself suggested other versions <br />of itself, faces within a face. <br /> <br />Rooms refused to add up. We <br />petitioned partitions. Shadows <br />fell against their will. <br /> <br />Blue meant one kind of life, <br />yellow quite another. Annuities of fate <br />sat in paint cans, quiet, unmixed. <br /> <br />In Plato’s formal heaven, two-by-fours <br />are Two By Four, grainless, ideal. <br />Here lumber rankles at our plain <br /> <br />plane geometry, gets nailed to the crosses <br />of our blueprints. We model, mold, <br />remold, remodel. And still we sigh.<br /><br />Hans Ostrom<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/remodeling-a-house/
