The houses that live in me
Residency at Gylleboverket sept-oct 2025
the houses that live in me
have gredelin roofs that creak open when the clouds float by
shutters that lose their hinges when the woodpecker hammers in the trees
they have cautious stairs that trip over the keys in the kitchen
rubber boots on the dust grains in the hall
the houses that live in me have reflected away their ceiling lights with the indifference of carpet fringes
a sincerity of basement smell
a horror of balconies
in every other house the sun should have devoured the peace of home
but the living rooms went on strike
in the houses that live in me the toilets have moved out into the meadow outside the plot boundary
the drain pipes sing a choir song in the bed straw
the pine twigs in the floorboards always look so sternly
the wardrobe doors always stand a little ajar
in the houses that live in me there are no kitchen knives, no tuberculosis or forest terror
only ironed skirting boards
shameful ridge tiles
and overweight chimney stacks
the houses that live in me have joined together to move
they no longer enjoy their property designations
their red lines on the map
they have eaten the last bun
conjured away the last nail
terminated the contract
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