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I lived in the middle of a dead end block

with two enormous random pine trees planted in my lawn

Gi...

Gillani.

Homes?

For sale.

My house!

No! No… No.

Gillani used one of those chains that people use to tie their bikes to poles

to anchor the sign to the random pine tree in the front of my house

He posted a for sale sign

like they’re not kicking us out

my family as stubborn as the bricks used to build this home

digging our nails into the wallpaper that’s been posted since we moved here

When you hire an agent at Gillani Homes to sell your house

or buy your dream home,

you will find the whole office will be working for you as a team.

BUT WHO IS WORKING FOR MY FAMILY?

Rebecca, a burning pan of roti

my little sister, grew up in this house

too hot to hold

a burning pan of roti has fallen in this house

this burning pan of roti is still learning to pick herself up

Her body as heavy as a all the soil in my front lawn after it rains

Rebecca’s not too good at making friends

they play dodge ball with her body

like throwing walnuts into a brownie

Rebecca’s not too good at math

Rebecca’s not too good at love

when all else fails

all she has is this house to call home

a smoke detector to remind her when her is starting to burn

Dear mom,

as close as our house is to the sky

you told me God would never leave us or forsake us

no place loves me like home

My two younger brothers graduate from junior high school this June

this is their first time in America

they know nothing of eviction

that is a term of the law

law knows nothing of compassion, love or family

If there aint no place like home

Who wil tell Rebecca that she is starting to burn?

My niece is only two

feet smaller my hands

voice projecting out of her tiny vanilla wafer body

reciting words in Spanish she learned from Dora

ayuda! Ayuda!

Their aint no smoke detectors in the streets

Who will tell Rebecca she is starting to catch flames?

My mother

The weary clothes line in my back yard

Hanging to close to the ground

Emptied her pension into this house

Because she was scammed

My mother lost her pension to this house

Behind the front door

is protection oil to keep the bad spirits away

that door

and the tack pounding sound it leaves

belongs to me

On my front porch is a blood stain the size of my ear

from the first time i went rolling blading

tripped, fell over one of the earthquake wrinkles in my steps

that step

and all the stain from my blood

belongs to me

He posted the sign a few days after Christmas

the same day my sister and i got into a side impact car accident

I can see the truck

It isn’t slowing down

It’s headlights breaks my window

I go to grab Rebecca’s hand

but it’s all ash now

I can see my heart in-between my feet

I’m not sure if I’m alive or not…

If home is where the heart is

where do all our hearts go now?