A poem: Home

Because I’m in the enjoyable habit now…

Photograph by John Livzey

Photograph by John Livzey


I want to jam
on a respite I have
with you, like a good day
driving just to drive,
just itself, home

that hasn’t always been moonlight,
waterfalls and flowers,
a zone where nothing matters
but what’s between us,
made of our eyes

and lust for funky function,
the personal, the original,
reflecting everything,
nothing. I remember a day
way back, nun’s lodgings,

a house coming up,
a someday movie
in my mind, hopes falling like stars
since someday never comes,
and yet we know this story:

we changed our lives
and banked on time
then, and so far, for nothing
but everything,
and we’re living there.

— Teresa Young