this home

it's not the place
you want to be, but

here you are. with
your warm blankets,

your books, your thin
new friend gisele,

and your flat t.v.,
and things you value.

the photos, the poems,
the stories you have

written and have left
stacked up like piles

of snow on the floor
of every room.

everything in a spot
you think it needs

to be, you've
counted out the days

behind you, the possible
days ahead, and added

up the money it will
take to keep things

exactly the way they
are. in food and drink,

and comfort, there's
no luck involved here,

perhaps quite the opposite.