Jack Kristiansen

A Baby Sitter's Dream

 

                              

built to make money, to change hands,                       

to dilapidate, to collapse                                                                                               

in a burst of dust, now home                                                                 

mostly to families with preschoolers,                          

in daytime twelve stories of symmetry,                        

late at night the lighted, curtained windows                  

like pieces disappearing from a game board                  

for which no one’s made up the rules                             

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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