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redefine: house
by Aaron MichaelI slipped past you
Coming home
Away from home
And raw was rubbed
Into the softest
Places of me.
I cannot identify
The tumbling pieces
Only know their import.
I want to hold them
Yet they are mist
And missed
And intermingled
With my fingers
But devastatingly absent.
I know what
Home means.
I know grasp at ashes
Trying to reconstitute
Matter with wishes
That isn't mine to touch.
I cannot identify
The pieces.
They are so
Familiarly alien
But I beg
With all my heart shards
I get just one
To fall with me
For a little while again. 01/30/2018 Posted on 01/30/2018
Copyright © 2024 Aaron Michael
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 01/31/18 at 12:53 PM *stellar* |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 02/09/18 at 04:39 AM For a good while I have been interested in the difference/contrast between house and home. How much I think these days about losing the familiar pieces for an unfamiliar and mysterious "place." Thanks for the thought-provoking piece, Aaron. |
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