i had built walls,

of cellulose and mud.

reinforced them

with rebar and rules,

thinking i had a blueprint

for all constructs.


yet the only path 

i can stumble down

is the one 

that twists and dips

to my own front door.


concerned about zoning 

and ordinance,

i had yet to take the broom 

to my own threshold,

sifting through sediment

in search of gold.


yet Love knocked,

wielding a sledge

with a hefty swing

a percussive pound,

that pulverized plaster,

returning clay to earth.


and light danced 

on the inner walls

of the vast source,

i call home.


© M.G. Iannucci 2017
Photo: Straw Bale House

14 thoughts on “Demolition

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