The Farewell Box
Original EveryPoem Studio house-voice poem.
Original EveryPoem Studio house-voice poem.
Choose a genuine response. Counts appear only after several readers agree.
I carry a country that fits in no suitcase, that cannot be folded into neat squares.
No curtains yet. The moon walks room to room without knocking.
Her old friends are four hundred miles away. At lunch she carries the tray past three tables of finished conversations.
Your new room is mostly cardboard. The lamp has no shade. The picture freezes whenever you laugh.
Today you are one year closer to something—not death, not wisdom, not the person you planned to be by now, but something.
Home is not the address. It's the sound the lock makes when you've been gone too long.
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