A Villanelle
I want to buy my wife a home,
But they are few and far between;
Instead we lie beneath the loam.
We bought a car, reflecting chrome,
But Uncle Sam came with a lien.
I want to buy my wife a home
Away from our nation’s dry bone,
Where we can live and find the means—
Instead we lie beneath the loam.
The eagle perched upon the dome,
Perhaps, never held freedom’s scene?
I want to buy my wife a home
Of ashes. Built upon fields lone.
Escape the rot, or maybe clean—
I want to buy my wife a home,
Instead we lie beneath the loam.