Understanding that ache for art

my mother always welcomed

those ruffled feathers

When I covered a room wall

with a book of post-its

tearing them off like petals

and pasting them up like paintings

the babysitter screeched

but, she praised this childhood masterpiece

Later, when I moved into the corner of her studio

I made a door out of cardboard

taped paper steps leading up to it

and a paper welcome mat, fixing them

slightly lopsided, on the light linoleum floor

rubbing out the tape bubbles

with small, almond fingers

I looked at the house proudly

the house I’d built inside her art

A house within a house within a house