Home

Sometimes I think and feel

that the valves of my heart

are made of taut

steel or maybe spider thread.

 

They say that the latter

is stronger.

 

When the place you belong to

where you are from, it

                                     throws you out.

Pushed inside out,

first, they turn against each other

and become wolves

Then, turn you in to

the wolves.

 

When all you’ve wanted is to belong.

When all I’ve wanted is to belong,

and let my heart be, butter

melting through slender fingers, to

                                                         blend into another

that’s as soft and tender

as mine, when it meets yours

a place I can call home?

 

for MoltenIce