This house tastes of valerian root and dreams,
Fern musk that clouds the windows, vined wisteria weaving.

I stack the teacups and mismatch all the saucers,
Pull the curtains down with a sharp yank,
Take the faux fur that has covered everything to the bedroom
Where I lay and sip my drinks:

Hibiscus flower, yarrow with golden honey,
Black, green, and white tea,
Dandelion that tastes of sunshine,
Fresh mint sprinkled in the dark coffee,
Lemon and berry,
Bitter sage.

I spill the hanging lavender,
Grab my broom
And sweep.

This house is scented with valerian root and dreams,
Tiny visions baked into the tile cracks, candle wax
Stuck on Gibran, Poe, Woolf,

Memories that floated down like snow and melted into the letters of this poem.