Thursday, April 29, 2021


Your home is not 
a place you can leave; 
your home is that spot 

where you can't stand 
to be, but nevertheless 
can't stop;

it's the position you're in 
and the attention
you command when 

your ship's coming in, 
and it's the face 
that you make 

while their train's 
pulling out—
that grimace of stone

while you wave 
very slow and refuse 
any teardrops, as if 

even the wind should know 
to blow around you 
on the platform,

because you have 
never allowed 

to be moved,
and you do not intend 
to start now.