Many are curious, shy
of houses near a churchyard cemetery,
despite the tease of a languid, tranquil path.
Most have children, desire
backyards with tall fences, sweet grass,
flowers, and shade trees, not expensive to tend.
Even childless couples
yearn for at least a scrap of earth.
They all crave space, but not close neighbors
who might see all the living
inside, intrude on all that is intimate, ambivalent.
They long for space,
an open floor plan, granite countertops,
a basement hideaway, and large master bedroom.
On their own,
some far from home and devoted family,
they swoon in every lush, restless landscape.
Michael Carrino has an MFA in Writing from Vermont College. He is a retired English lecturer from the State University College at Plattsburgh, NY, where he was co-editor and poetry editor of the Saranac Review. His publications include Some Rescues (New Poets Series, Inc.), Under This Combustible Sky (Mellen Poetry Press), Café Sonata (Brown Pepper Press), and Autumn’s Return to the Maple Pavilion (Conestoga Press) as well as individual poems in numerous journals and reviews.