Every Wall Remembers

Brick by brick, I'm coming home.
Leave a little blue there for the door.

Friday photo from the builder:
Walls as high as where we stood.
That's the sky my kite got lost in,
That's the field where we played ball.
Every payday buys a window,
Every long shift buys a beam.
I've never stood inside these rooms;
I've walked them nightly on a screen.

Slow is still a way of moving.
One wall higher than before.
Mama's picked her chair's position—
Morning sun beside the door.

Brick by brick, where I began.
Every wall remembers these two hands.
One more window, one more room.
Brick by brick, I'm coming home to you.

Mama sends her own inspection:
"Verandah's ready. Roof is sound."
The neighbor asks, "Who's coming over?"
"My son," she says. "He's settling down."
I keep asking for more pictures,
Hold the newest till the coffee's cold.
Friday brings a blue door swinging.
She stands beside it, proud and small.

Brick by brick, where I began.
Every wall remembers these two hands.
One more window, one more room.
Brick by brick, I'm coming home to you.

I say, "Next year, we'll add another room."
She says, "There's room enough for you."
I open up a different window—
This time, not the house. The flights.

Brick by brick, where I began.
Now that blue key turns inside my hand.
Mama moves her chair to make me room.
Brick by brick, I made it home to you.

First picture from inside the house.
I'm not the one behind the phone.