When my wife and I got home this week, we were locked out of our house, so we decided to sleep in my trailer for two. Nice to recall that home is not a physical structure, but a spiritual space,. It was nice to be vulnerable together again-to sukkot together once more. As they say where i am from, “rough weather makes good timber”. Anyway, thought I’d write a poem about our first night back to harvest even the bumps of coming home. It’s good to harvest the bumps in life, as there are so many little potential poems in waiting there.
locked out of our house, we
slept instead, in the airstream together last night
in the vulnerable steel cold distant wind womb
we tucked into some other world within
with faux firelight imaging at our feet
flickering from some unseen electric source.
(us who try to imitate the force and clarity of fire)
entering dream together,
we almost slipped out from our skins, freely into heaven…
and the possums, rats and cats
didn’t seem to mind us
being locked out with them
beneath the constant stars shimmering.