Today I moved into a new house marking the end of a full summer long move, and while I’m too jumbled to offer you a full post or even any post before eleven o’clock at night, Pacific Time, I’ll still give you a bit of that mess in a first draft poem. This day is too sweet, too sweaty and too dense with work and joy to not record at least a few lines.

Home Again.

Tomorrow and the next day and the weeks ahead

I will open box after box and again,

tunneling through our past, unwrapping:

my grandmother’s plates,

pictures of my once pink, rubberband-wristed babies,

and so, so many books I’ve read or meant to.

 

How do you know you’re home?


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