home

is where where earth

keeps her bones.

where a corpse that used

to be by dad chills.

is the place i find myself

after work with doodle and wife.

home trained me to shovel snow

for a buck a walkway and weed

mrs. o’connor beds for fifty cents an

hour and how to build treeforts

and ride without using hands and

m-80 your mailbox just because.

taught me how kiss sandy

in the attic above the garage

and home bounced my tennis balls

back to me against the garage door.

home caught the rain and lightning from

the sky and kept it off my bed.

home grew lollipop smiles and

crucifix morals and judging eyes.

fast forward a few moons and home

will cradle my wheelchair bones

and drop me a floor with my oxygen

mask. but she can’t keep my soul.