Connor and Jack discuss Kamala Surayya's haunting poem, My Grandmother's House. Memory and nostalgia, the use of houses in poetry and song, and even a reference to Mad Men: this episode has it all. Find us on Facebook at: facebook.com/closetalking  Find us on Twitter at: twitter.com/closetalking  Find us on Instagram: @closetalkingpoetry You can always send us an e-mail with thoughts on this or any of our previous podcasts, as well as suggestions for future shows, at [email protected]. My Grandmother’s House By: Kamala Surayya There is a house now far away where once I received love……. That woman died, The house withdrew into silence, snakes moved Among books, I was then too young To read, and my blood turned cold like the moon How often I think of going There, to peer through blind eyes of windows or Just listen to the frozen air, Or in wild despair, pick an armful of Darkness to bring it here to lie Behind my bedroom door like a brooding Dog…you cannot believe, darling, Can you, that I lived in such a house and Was proud, and loved…. I who have lost My way and beg now at strangers' doors to Receive love, at least in small change?

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