a house i remember that isn’t mine

the white, paint-chipped door lies slightly agape
you can’t tell whether or not they want to let you in
they do and they don’t.
the cold atmosphere of the barren trees and dead grass
envelope the remnant of a wheelchair ramp.
the stillness of the neighborhood contradicts the warmth within the house.
photographs urge the past into the present; soft smiles urge the future
to slow down for a couple days.
everyone’s in black, but i swear the mood is orange

Ariana Eftimiu

Listen to Ariana reading ‘a house i remember that isn’t mine’ (0:38).


Ariana Eftimiu is a student who has been writing for ages, and has received a couple of awards, including the National Just Poetry award. She likes to write poetry, she says, because it helps her be introspective about what she’s feeling and share that with other people. She likes to say that writing is a conversation; an open letter to whoever’s willing to listen, or to whoever needs to hear something in the moment. It’s a way for her to be there and comfort someone she doesn’t even know.

© 2020