The Caretaker - July 22, 2025

my house is an old man

seventy-five to be exact

old enough that if he blinks funny

a light switch stops working

his catheter-like plumbing

has bad valves and drips

his skin-roof is wrinkled

and split, leaks too

the foundation-legs of his,

fractured and unsteady,

make each movement

another crack in a wall

the garden I completely redid

after years of neglect

he wants to go out and see it

but I dare not let him

one misstep and he’d slip

and fall in the pond

another mess to clean up

instead, I say “I love you”

help him back into bed