The House I Become Twenty-One Windows into a Life Unfolding

In twenty-one mornings a house becomes a map. The kettle clears its throat steam writes and vanishes a key waits without verdict. These poems move from noise to noticing to newness-kitchen light street windows salt on a plate shoes by the door a train naming the city from far away. There are no grand pronouncements here only small fidelities that make a life feel lived: tile kettle light.The House I Become is a short intimate novel-in-poems that reads in one sitting and lingers for days. Open a window. Then another. See what the day lets in.