Siting the House.(Poem)

 
SITTING THE HOUSE 
 
   On the south slope, facing sun and moon, ridge 
   of a mountain where the Appalachian 
   trail still runs, the house would have to dig claws 
   in to stay. The map showed a fault (how deep? 
   how insecure?), and she imagined cups 
   tap dancing across the shelves, and bowed walls 
   swaying. The fault ran where the deer trail angled 
   up from the road and disappeared in the grove 
   of cedars, as if they knew, and, always 
   moving, ...