in the back and bottom of my home
where one might put a dungeon
if it were really a castle
next to the beast that warms the air and water
of this tiny rural fortress
where the washer and dryer reside
I hung sheet rock
built shelves with imperfect corners
for my collection of salvaged books
and put a table and chair
where I could read and write
like the prisoner to words that I am.
© 2008 henry toromoreno
words with no names 