Charles Mahaffey


A house grew wild in his childhood.

        It did not belong to him.

With no one to watch over it, trees bloomed through the windows. Rabbits moved in.

Berries. There were bushes of berries, too.

Then he came and planted sweet corn through the floorboards.
        Sprinkled the kernels with sticky fingers and poured soda on top.
Broken windows littered the living room.

An experiment.

Nothing grew of course.

But later when the house
was pushed over
a deer ran out, & snarled at the wind.
As if it had lost its Home.