i lied, i don't need a house 

i tell you what i want is
picture frames so we go walking through
the craft store to the back where the frames bloom
in all shapes: circle square triangle 
octagon rhombus. wracks of frames
to walk through. i decorate spaces 
with thumb tacs & i tell you i want 
something more permanent. i want everything 
bordered. i want to make countries 
out of my possessions-- out of myself.
we step through picture frames & pretend
they're each a doorway into a new dimension 
where we are less poor & living somewhere
without a cold winter. sometimes i mistake you
for my father. you look nothing alike 
but you serve the same purpose. someone for me
to want to be closer to. i want a frame
for my father-- a circle for him to 
curl up in & sleep. i safe way for me
to point him out to guests. we're out here
pretending i have a house to decorate.
i'm living inside a frame. there are ones
with gold leaf wrapped around wood.
there are shadow boxes  with depth 
to contain a whole crop of baby shoes.
but i'm looking for a frame made of bone.
four femurs perfectly aligned. i want
to use my own. i want to slip them 
out of my skin but i only have two
i will need yours as well
then we can live in the frame together 
& take turns hanging on the wall
in the living room. everyone i know
lives in such small spaces. 
i want to make a gallery of them 
& explain the details of their
glossy eyes. i'll do it while you're 
asleep then. you won't feel it--
if anything you'll feel the peace
that shapes offer. the symmetry.
i'll frame everything i own. kitchen implements.
books. fingernails. hats. floss. 
inside i'm a very formal person. i crave order.
i crave nails in the wall. i leave
my bed out on the curb & replace it
with a picture frame. my desk with a picture frame.
come visit me here & see me wrapped 
in gold leaf. i am a thin layer 
of precious. i am hanging a portrait of
a father at the end of the hall.
something to always be walking towards.
keep hammers all around the apartment.
yes i lied i don't have a house. hammers around
the apartment in case something 
crawls out of place. i'm buying the tinniest frames
for each fly carcass. for each finger.
for each miniature desire.