No one lived in it. No one was in there today.
Hardly what you’d call a remote location,
Stuck at the end of an ordinary driveway
In a closely packed neighborhood, once
An early suburb, since overtaken by the city.
But it was isolated, all the same, because
No one bothered to visit it but an alley cat,
And even the cat only sniffed and went on.
Watching from a window of an empty home
Not belonging in any sense to me, daughter
Hundreds of miles and weeks away from me,
I thought I detected the faint movement
Of my soul through that windowless wall
At the end of the drive, past where the cat
Had gone, perhaps into the mountain snow.
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