A real estate listing 
sent in a text
29 photos, inside and out
our very first house
around the corner from the womb 
of our parents
the place we began
here is the odd-shaped room 
where our babies slept
here is the wooded expanse 
where they played
memories updated in hardwood 
and steel, wallpaper measured and hung
late into the night, replaced with bright paint. 

Forty years since we called it our own —
we don’t know these owners 
who don’t know of us, our memories 
hidden in closets, climbing the stairs
they don’t know of the cross we found 
etched into the wall, don’t know of the plastered hole 
punched in the hall, crayoned measurements 
marking the years, long ago dreams, disappeared. 
They’ll never know this house is alive, 
bursting with promise, forever mine.