Perhaps that's where it all must begin

 
 
 
Do you remember  
that house you left  
 
you know the one  
with an unkept garden,  
where vines crawl up  
along brick walls  
 
and a door screaming  
for WD-40 to quench  
it's neglected thirst?  
 
It actually doesn't matter  
how long you were absent  
or even what happened  
as ivy began curling  
up in their spirals  
 
but perhaps that's where  
it all must begin again,  
 
it starts with picking  
up a rusty WD-40 can  
as hinges start shining  
in their thankfulness  
 
it continues in allowing  
ivy to unfurl for a moment,  
let it keep digging until  
it arrives to the root  
of every matter  
 
as it arrives let  
herbicide slowly  
soak into ivy's  
emerald blood,  
 
let each thread  
come away from  
every different  
shaded brick  
 
as you pick up fine  
pointed trimmers,  
dislodge aerial  
roots revealing  
pain inside of  
each stem  
 
maybe that's where  
it all must begin again,  
 
it starts by  
returning home  
 
as windows open  
blowing away  
cobwebs like  
cigarette  
smoke.