Unusual Spending on Home

Often, I have found
a locus, a fly, a cockroach – dead, yet

whole on the ground
the body of the insect dry as a tomb
empty, like so many robbed graves

a Sailboat, a Motorboat, another Sailboat
each covered with tattered, weathered wings – a blue tarp
spread across its carapace

This strip of land is a place where dreams go to die,
good intentions to fix, repair, rebuild, reuse, Resurrect

      Echo through the hollowed shells
      that represent my father’s hallowed vision of

Stray dogs without a home, make shelter where they can take it
Find food in others’ discarded remains of a meal
      They howl, at something, somebody, into the wind

Cries so loud, so poignant

This is where dreams have died, and
Ships sailed long ago

Take in another stray – someday he might love you
the way he never could