the fly swatter

i see a chain

link fence around a long

dirt yard

and i think of home.

i see a broken

window,

a dog going in and out

of the shredded

screen door,

the clunking

of a big black

fan

cooling the steamy

rooms

and i think

of home.

i see the tin foil on

the antennae

of the black and white

tv,

and i think of home.

i smell fried chicken

in the pan,

i hear babies crying

and i think

of home.

i see a fly swatter

hanging on

a nail

on the kitchen wall

and i think of home.

it's a warm

and strangely cozy

feeling,

a feeling i don't mind

at all.