Home
or the solo bedroom with gold trim
or the orange bookcase
It would not be the apartment on Marigold
or the duplex on
It wouldn’t even be the house, finally
ours, on Chase. Home?
Who can say
It’s not this small kitchen
or the dusty baseboards
the muddy backyard
the arrangement of four walls
and furniture, beds and sofas
or the accumulation of books and time
in such a space
the husband, the son, the dog
and the kind of quiet
that only emerges
from sleep & snow
3 comments:
sleep and snow. very very quiet. I like the space of the poem.
I like it-especially the memories of Marigold and Chubbuck Rd. Seems like another lifetime. Very well done.
And, for all the snow, the poem reads warm with the yellow and o sounds.
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