Home Body - June 27, 2026

sleepless, 3 a.m.

in the living room

a silence untouched

by the ticking clock and

soft rumble of the frig,

now living things in this

fragile bubble called home

partly because of them,

I’ve become a homebody

and this thick cushioned sofa

has become the cradle I curl into

and around this other occupant

called     the time I have left

people refuse to leave a longtime

residence, not because memories

haunt the walls, halls and furniture

they want the end

to be like the beginning

they want the comfort of leaving

to feel like the welcome of arriving