Only a House When Clean

A house is only a house when clean

but as the dweller leaves it suddenly reverts to an archeological scene,

growing day after day, layer upon layer into the fabric of time, 

each thin veil of dust obscuring another line.

Each object only a clue to why you were you before you had to let it go

and your dwelling reverted to a site to excavate and record

just what happened in this place in it's measure of time and space?

Was the dweller civilized?

Will the remnants of your garbage allow us to decide?

Were you the leading edge of the human tide?