Short Poems: Contingencies

So I've been writing these little poems at work while I wait for customers. I have a general idea, and then I write like 8 or 9 of these and then move on. I'm going to post them up as I have nothing longer to post up at the moment. So here's the first Contingencies poem.

Contingency #1: Space

Sometimes your house will be shrinking,
the limbs of your siblings will suddenly bang against you
at the dinner table and hallways will become impassable by two
and music will stack on top of voice on top of television
and so long the furniture which once fit you all,
even the sink which you know once held your entire body,
has been reduced to a space slightly bigger than two open hands.

But worse is when your house expands,
when you walk from one room into another
and then can’t seem to find that original door.
You’ll call in this house and it’ll take time for your family
to answer you back, and you’ll have dinner at a table
seemingly so long, your family must be at the unseeable
opposite end blocked by huge flowers, or maybe trees, even roads.
And then one day your room is as big as New York,
and your sister’s as big as Michigan and you can’t drop in anymore,
squat on the floor next to their bed, read a comic book,
listen to their new favorite song.