reading room
House, Year 3025
in 1000 years my house will be
a shuffle of bricks half asleep under a dune
thr front door will squeak only to echoes
a fridge still humming without meaning
stairs leading to nothing but pause
the sofa growing moss and jokes
the bathroom mirror showing faces that wink
neighbours? just snails with paperwork
and yet— and postman arrives every millennium late
with one letter: address unknown.
— Lilith