The House

I am a slave to this house
It keeps me slave to its rhythms
But in a way it saves me
If it senses I have thoughts of straying
It becomes a performance artist of need
A pipe breaks in the basement
A toilet becomes a defector
Tend to me    soothe me    the house says
So I go from floor to floor
Caress it where I wash it with sponges
If I get a hot bath it wants one too
I seem to kowtow when I clean its steps
Going floor to floor in half-darkness
As the cats that wander on sentry duty
From floor to floor with that second sight
Rooms feel needy as soon as I leave them
You can never trust me to myself  it says
So I have stopped taking vacations
I might do myself in while you are away
The house whispers at me through its eyeholes
When I look up at it from the street
If I die, you die the house promises
Like a lover who is also a prison
And I believe it    and so I love it well