What if a house were like a wheel?
How would that be any different from the way things are?
Your days would begin level enough
But then as the sun rose, imperceptibly
(Except for that one moment–which
You only catch on the rare days
When you are actually paying
attention–when the blushing dawn
quite suddenly turns the lights on),
as the day goes on
Regularly, as you look up,
you notice that you’re turning,
And it’s even quite pleasant at first
Maybe it’s just a gentle rocking,
and the pendulum will swing back the other way.
(Surely it will swing back, won’t it?)
You rest in this denial,
Or rather, you think you are resting,
Until the dishes have crashed to the floor
And the laundry escapes its confines
in the dryer
and is replicating its experience
all over the bedrooms.