The previous owner didn’t paint the house
so much as coloured it in,
with some leftover clashing colours
he must’ve scrounged from his
uncle the builder.
The previous owner managed his rage.
Stapling the guts out of the master bedroom carpet,
over and over again,
to the wooden planks of the floor.
No way that carpet was ever flying
out the door, not with her.
It took us hours to unpick.
The previous owner’s wife
ran off with his best friend.
So he exacted his revenge
in screwing us for more
than the house was worth.
On the laundry wall,
he left us the big sloppy heart he painted for her,
it framed their initials together with the capital L.
Proof, at last, that she was loved.
And that quite possibly she had paid
a higher price than we thought,
to her previous owner.