Home

It’s snowing in a way that reminds me

of people who rarely complain.

I imagine the oldest woman eating bread: silent,

half asleep, softly chewing mngna, mngna, mngna.

I am thankful for snow

and the black stillness of evergreens

the way they line up on the street

here in my New England.

I have made it mine, the way

a young girl finds someone’s lipstick

and makes it hers.

It doesn’t matter that it’s half used

it matters that it’s lipstick and she wears it

down to her chin.

“Home” first appeared in The Literary Bohemian, Issue 11, January 2011.