never far from home

you are never far
from home.
you can reach
into any given
box and be there,
lifting
a photo into
your hand,
turning it over
for a clue
that's unwritten.
that fence,
that stretch of
lawn, the tilt
of the wet roof,
the window
that wouldn't
open. your brothers
and sisters
in other rooms
inventing their
own lives,
your mother
at the sink,
perpetually washing
dishes
as she cooked,
staring out
beyond the scrub
brushes, the lidless
garbage cans
to the snow
laden street,
waiting for life
to change,
to be made not
good, but
better.