100,000 Cubic Feet of Void

The house is so big that I leave the TV on
The big screen, downstairs,
When I am home alone
Just so I don't hear
10,000 square feet of echoing silence
100,000 cubic feet of void

Leave the room,
Sit in my father's office,
Play computer tetris,
Barely listen to "The Family Feud"

This house is not the house where I grew up:
Not the house we lived in when I was born -
That apartment is long gone, and I can't even recall it -
Not the house of my first memories, my first California house -
A small condo with pale blue siding -
Nor the house of my childhood years -
A small room, painted red, shared with my sister,
A twin bed covered in hearts and a wicker toy chest -
Nor the house of junior high and high school -
Hardwood floor, a tall bookcase, wood stained blue,
A large leather chair in the family room -

This is the house of three years' hard work
And six months' life
And it sits, this afternoon, on display
The auction block
Going to the highest bidder
In an attempt to pay for my next house -
A room shared with two others in a building filled with 18- to 24-year-olds -
And their next house -
Another tract home, larger than the last,
But smaller still than this

This house is my mother's home
Her effort made reality, her time and dream made flesh and blood
Her wants made real
And soon it will be gone

I do not have a home

Home is where the heart is
And my heart lies in me,
A muffled thump against my ribs,
Afraid to leave
Afraid to give itself away
To anything so transient