Try as I might, I can’t think of a creative way to tell the Poetic Asides prompt each day, so here it is: write a construction poem. 

Rebuilding

They strip the asphalt to
expose the wood, and rip the
bales of shingles free. Each nail is
hammered home with the precision of
a surgeon. We are the best, the salesman
said, you won’t need another roof for
twenty years. Later, they sweep the
driveway clean, taking months of
leaves with the glittery
remnants of this old house.

I want to rebuild from the bottom up;
to polish the first promise until it
reflects the moon. I want to tear down
the misplaced words and replace them
with compassion. I don’t need a salesman
to tell me what is right. It’s what’s already gone.