this is your house
amidst the tall trees
pine and birch and other stranger things
never meant to see the light of day

this is your house
balanced on the water's edge
where anomalies dredge themselves up
pale and luminous in the twilight
after the tourists are gone

this is your house
cradled by the hands of the brush and sand and stone
where only hardy things grow
and the night is colder than it seems
and a single shoot has forced its way up through the floor
with the creativity and tenacity
of any plant searching for water

there is always something.