A House of My Own

  Sandra Cisneros       

Not a flat.  Not an apartment in back.  Not a man's house.  Not a daddy's. A house all my own.  With my porch and my pillow, my pretty purple petunias.  My books and my stories.  My two shoes waiting beside the bed.  Nobody to shake a stick at.  Nobody's garbage to pick up after.  Only a house quiet as snow, a space for myself to go, clean as paper before the poem.