If my
body is my home
what is this house full of blood
within my skin? I can’t leave it for a moment
but finally will. It knows up and down, sideways,
the texture of the future and remnants of the past.
It accepts moods as law to matter how furtively
they slip in and out of consciousness.
He says, “Pull yourself together,”
but he already is. An old voice
says, “Stay close to
home.”