Kate Lebo lives in Seattle where she works for the Richard Hugo House, a literary arts center.  Her poems have appeared in Crab Creek Review, DMQ Review, Smartish Pace and Filter magazines, and she was awarded a 2010 Soapstoine residency.  To read more, visit her blog: goodeggseattle.blogspot.com.

Lebo says: "The first line of 'Renting again' came to me while I listened to a friend debate the merits of moving to Portland over Seattle.  He spoke as if he thought a cit could shape his destiny as drastically as a meteor can shape the moon  'Renting Again' argues with that notion."

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Renting Again

by Kate Lebo

No city in the world will save your life,

But you keep hoping.  On your old block

A house kneels on a corner and watches

Its thin lawn, some fences and next door's

Bamboo blinds.  Last year you'd stood

On its porch and felt solid, waiting only

For a ride.  You were happy.

Not exactly.  You were almost home.

Inside someone watched football.

Someone cracked an egg.  Someone

Sorted yard and glue and sequins

Into meticulously labeled drawers.

Do you know your body's address?

You could find that house again, right now.

One day you'll be daydreaming on a bus

And your house will burse out of its doors before you

Lit from within and dirty, like the little boy

You haven't yet birthed.