Hope Houston

Where the Fixer-Uppers Run Free

Joanna Gains can shove her shiplap
where the Waco sun never shines,
and may her Chip fall where Capital Gains
have left the rusted belt of the Midwest
homeless amid another housing crisis,
as well as in the cities, and along the coasts,
and drowned in their cups of Texas tea.
Reader, they deserve this ire as I scour
Zillow, wondering why six figures is requisite
for a bungalow brimming with asbestos.
Meanwhile, my mother-in-law promises
our dreams are not dead; they have simply
yet to bloom. Bloom behind the drywall
in bouquets of black mold where past
tenants were once rats and roaches and
variable rate mortgages. Where this American
life felt filled with the possibility of living but
the pipes—lead-solder copper—have been left
leaking and another housing bubble feels full
enough to burst but at least then the lenders
and the loan sharks can float, or better yet
keep fucking swimming.