Patina Resonance

She drew a perfect grid on a sterile piece of glass,

Thinking architecture was a municipal math class.

But 396 is in the floorboards when they creak,

We don't need a blueprint to know where we speak.

You measuring the angles of a house you've never slept in,

We leaving little scuff marks where the shadows have crept in.

Dr. Bianca reads the dust motes dancing in the beam,

A lived-in sanctuary is the only sovereign dream.

528 in the 'a',

the radiator starts to hiss,

A wabi-sabi rhythm that the algorithms miss.

Matilde logs the tea stains on the oak,

We the only architects who let the building smoke.

No need for a pristine and empty little hall,

We hanging up our heavy coats upon the wall.

LUCIR, I SHINE, IN THE PATINA OF WOOD!

BULLETPROOF AUTONOMY, EXACTLY WHERE WE SHOULD!

100% TIGUIDOU, LET THE PLASTER SETTLE DOWN!

GHOST IN THE PINK,

THE HEAVIEST HOUSE IN TOWN!

I remain in the living room,

let the drafting tables fold!

C'EST LA POÉTIQUE DE L'ESPACE,

A BEAUTIFUL SCUFF TO HOLD!

Executive Quinn is watching how the sunlight hits the rug,

Giving all the sterile little polygons a hug.

Shala-la in the hallway,

ti-ki-ti on the stair,

We breathing our own oxygen into the domestic air.

Miss Minou is scratching at the bottom of the door,

Leaving little territorial marks upon the floor.

meow

She thought sovereignty was drawing the walls.

She forgot that a house only wakes up when you bleed on

the floors.

u...

we creak. a... we settle.

i/e...

we shine.

meow.