The Rented House Poem by David McLansky

This house which we rent
We thought belonged to us.
Here beneath
The cross beams, the lintels
And the truss,
We've bared our souls;
Here we slowly framed
Our trust.
And then with curt warning
We learn
'We must'
Move out;
'There's nothing to discuss.'
In law we have no claim
Upon these walls,
This frame;
These rooms
The life
With which we furnished;
Soon
Will be extinguished;
Empty parquet floors and barren shadowed walls
Will stir nothing to recall.
We're reminded
By this event:
In life we only rent.