[*] Free

You tore down our house.

You’re “fucking Free” now.

Though you don’t see

the wider cage you’ve chosen.

Our house we could move

where you wanted.

We could rebuild.

Unwieldy? Yes,

but I chose it;

I believe “home is

where the heart is.”

And my home is in you.

Your new cage loves only power.

Pretending love with

visas and parole:

“free” this

and “no-fault” that.

In the evening of our lives,

our house would cover us

from the rain

and aging pain

as we lie down

to rest.

The cage lets us wash away—

replacing us as soon as

it no longer receives your love.

The house takes work now

so we can live forever.

The cage feels nice now

and maybe always will.

But I don’t believe it,

at least not for me.

Please come home.

Please help me rebuild.