Home is
gravity playing pick-up-sticks,
life afterlife,
rearranging the meaning:
the raindrop tear,
the magnet core,
the yo-yo sling,
the art of breathing,
is Home

Home is
crabgrass growing
in that familiar way,
Sunray after Sunday:
the setting sun stained
through makeshift glass windows
on a fieldtrip
bus ride home
is Home

Home is
a pumpkin spice Yankee candle,
whose burning light
whispers its eventual death
in an otherwise dimly-lit guest bathroom
to the drowning sounds
of pie plates and card games
is Home

07/29/2005