I Told You So

The only help I get from my parents is

“I told you so”

Not nearly enough.

So I sweep the crumbs

Under the rugs

For the mice that live in our walls.

THEY listen but offer only scratches

in winter.

And I don’t speak in creaks.

The sagging floor in the bathroom begs me

not to step on it.

So I put a dirty towel down to muffle

it's screaming.

One day it will let go,

and I will fall through

landing in the crawl space

with no money to help it see us through

another hundred years.

Yes, our house has a birthday coming,

that centennial age.

If these walls could talk I’m sure they’d say

“I told you so” too.

Escape! Escape! They’d yell now.

I know! I know!

I want to, I will…

but…money…

It’s never there when you need it.