Making a Home

I’m trying to make a home for myself 

In my body.

To carry in the furniture,

Relics of where I used to be,

To mend creaking floorboards and 

Cracks in the wallpaper,

To stock the fridge,

Instead of letting cabinet space collect dust, 

To sit around at the kitchen table and 

See nostalgia 

Instead of fear,

To rearrange the furniture,

Again and again,

And to decorate with paintings and portraits,

To show that someone lives here.

A home without an occupant is just a house.