Poetry

HOME IS A PLACE THAT DOESN'T EXIST

Do I want to be home?

Every day syndrome

I never asked for

I don’t want it anymore

The thing inside me wants to roam

The hills rid with catacombs

Including my own

The lore

Of my youth. I want to be home.

But home is not here.

            Nor there.

                          Nor anywhere.

It is hidden

In heels pressing indents in loam

In the dirt in my pores

In trying to ignore

Feeling homesick

Do I want to be home?

My heart’s soft tick.