several houses i grew up in 

i've entered so many dream versions
of the house. each always slightly askew. 
in the dream we accept the world as its given to us.
once our house was glasss & another time
we lived in a hotel with brass elevators.
last night our neighbors were digging holes 
in our yard. i went outside, furious, telling them
this is our yard. they stared blankly back at me
as if this was their house. i took an Uber
once this summer & the driver asked what i was.
i told him i was a poet 
& he asked what i wrote about. 
i wanted to tell him i write about
all the possible versions 
of my parent's house. i didn't because 
i wanted to keep it light. 
i said i write about family.
he said you should write about an eagle 
& a lion because they are the kings 
of the world. i thought about my father
& how neither animal resembles him.
in another iteration of our house
there are hands emerging from the walls.
they are trying to pull my clothes off.
a party is happenning but i only know 
by the chatter in the living room 
& the orangish glow. when we had parties
dad would sometimes just hide in the attic
with his headphones. from three floors down
i'd think i heard him pacing. he was a lion. 
i don't know what to do with the eagle
but maybe one day it will emerge 
in a dream, circling the house like a halo.
the lion is clearer to me. 
the lion will sleep on my bed, tear holes
in the comforter. the lion will be standing there
in the yard with all its sporadic love.
i tipped the Uber driver extra &
tried to think of a way to send him a poem.
in my own apartment i am weary of
falling into my parent's house.
my hallway looks just like their hallway
& some nights when i walk down it i am worried
if i blink or shut my eyes too long
i will end up there. i am always trying to get
farther away from something. 
a seed of myself underneath the floorboards.
i used to say it was my family 
but it was the eagle up there 
with its talons & its promises.
what will i escape tomorrow?
the hands strip me down & i run to my bedroom.
i see myself naked in a long full-length mirror.
i am maybe thirteen. pink & soft.
the room will soon be made 
of glass. the lion is chewing on a shard. 
my dad is no where in my apartment 
but i hear him walking up stairs.
his hands reach through the walls of the hallway.
all eighteen of them. callous fingers.
the brown-bottle smell of beer.