Place of Our Own

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.

Published by AC Moore

My goal is to one day change the world in the same way Shakespeare did: by infusing the thoughts of the human race with such language and turn-of-phrase that they say them daily, and never even know it was I who wrote it.

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