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by April Capili

Where is that? What is that?
Is that the house you grew up in
Ever lost, demolished, or occupied by others?
Is it the shifting company of friends
You lost in the name of self-discovery?
Or the melting arms and mouths of lovers
That burnt you and always left you lacking?
Is it that accident of your given family
As significant, distant, and strange as ever?
Is it the mystic country you left long ago
That has always belonged to a few who can?
Or this other one you’re now lost in
Where you constantly feel apologetic?
Perhaps it’s the God you never lost
Because was never yours to begin with?
Maybe home is in the arms of a child
Who keeps you where you are and lingers.

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