Palace of my dreams (part II)

In truth, I’ve been writing this poem for
several months now, every few
days in my head.

I ascend the wooden stairways, go up
up through the heavy gate inset with a
sword, take two hundred (or so) steps
and begin again.

Missing Out

Living away from family and friends is tough sometimes. There’s always a lot of good things, right, but the long and short of it is: you’re missing out. And so are they, in a way.

It’s only the distance, right?
I’m so far away from all the messes
– make my own –
so far away from all
the cancer and the ugly truths
– have ’em here too –
so far away from daily struggles
– it’s snowing here –
so far away from home

It’s funny how I call it that
home – as if
I’m missing your theater tryouts
and the fact that there’s a new teacher
at my old high school
– new teachers for me too –
the fact that you’re still riding everyday
– I miss my bike –
the fact that dinners and our tiny
three-bedroom house for five
– I’ve got two –
look so much flatter on the screen

Did I mention that it’s winter here?
No, not outside – it’s winter
in the way it’s not the rain
– we all precipitate –
It’s winter in the books that
are still left on the shelf, unread
– they’re lonely –
in the way that I can live alone now
unencumbered, also empty
– cook my own meals and everything –
It’s winter in the treats I bake on weekends
cause an introvert
– that’s me –
is so much better left alone

Did I mention moving out?
It means living in your own head
– you miss my art –
living in a space so undefined
– and what about your oil pastels? –
living in a winter house so white
you’re missing out
– your nursing books and
push-up runs and
those fun evening videos –
living in anticipation
of the day when I come home again

M.
Oct 20/15

Home is Where…?

Today is prompt response day:

“Home Turf – Name five things in your house that make it a home.”

Considering the fact that I just recently moved out for the first time, this is incredibly relevant. So here’s a “double poem” – a mishmash of old ideas coupled with a new layout:

Home is Where…?

I.
“Home is where the heart is,”
says the head
“Me?”
says heart –
“Yes, you,”
says the head

II.
“But home is where the food is,”
says the tongue
“But I don’t taste,”
says heart –
“The food,”
says the tongue

III.
“Home is where we sleep,”
say the bones
“Sleep?”
says heart –
“I know no sleep,”
it sighs.

IV.
“Home is not a place,”
says the nose
“But you smell it
in your head.”
“My head?”
asks heart

V.
“Home is where….”
the head, it stops
“Where?”
says heart
“Where we are.”
“Where we are.”

M.
Sep 21/15